


Equal and Opposite

by steph7of7



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Slytherin Harry, boy!pretty much everyone else, girl!Harry, girl!pretty much everyone, you get a new gender and you get a new gender and everybody gets a new gender
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2018-07-21 19:52:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7401589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steph7of7/pseuds/steph7of7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Let's just get this out of the way: Harry is a girl.  And Ron is a girl.  And Hermione is a boy.  And Dumbledore is a girl.  And Snape is a girl.  And Draco is a girl.  And, WTF, Voldemort is a girl.  The author plays all of this straight.  (Not, like, straight vs. gay.  In those terms, the author plays all of this gen.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Hogwarts Express

**Author's Note:**

> There are two tropes that I find myself reading over and over again: Person _p_ is sorted into House _h_ ; and girl!Harry. In most of these stories, the author seems unwilling to really _commit_ to the genre. What the fandom has been missing is someone stupid enough to try. [bows deeply]
> 
> Also, I was sick of my fics accidentally failing the Bechdel test. And so...I'm trying a thing. 
> 
> 1\. There are suddenly, like, no dudes in this story. Weird. The chick roles in HP never seemed so thin as when they're changed over to dude roles. 
> 
> 2\. I don't want to sound too 1950s American housewife, but...girls are different from boys. Changing the gender necessarily changes the tone, and the way people are treated, and the choices people make, and the way you, dear reader, see these people. It's...weird to me, even, and I'm writing it.
> 
> 3\. But most of all, I don't want this to sound like a project that I'm doing for my women's studies minor. NOTE: I don't have a women's studies minor. It's true that back in '96, I took some classes about gender roles, but seriously, I'm just...trying a thing here, I swear. 
> 
> 4\. This story is unfinished, and actually quite directionless. (WHAT? WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT?) Look, y'all, I'm at a creative nadir. I'm hoping that posting this will give me a kick in the pants. (WHO DOESN'T HATE IT WHEN AN AUTHOR SAYS THAT? NO ONE, THAT'S WHO--GOD I'M SORRY I'M PULLING THIS SHIT WITH YOU) Having said that, hey, if you have any suggestions/comments/please, oh my god, please help me--feel free to comment.
> 
> ______________________________  
>  _Are we not willing? Are we not bending? Are we not frozen? Are we not trembling? Are we not children? Are we not trying? Are we not wondering?_  
>      --Jane Siberry, from the album "When I was a Boy"

Daisy Evans sat alone on her trunk between platforms nine and ten in Kings Cross station. She was trying her best not to despair--and indeed was so focused on her goal that she almost missed the family of redheads trooping right in front of her. 

"Packed with Muggles of course," the father said.

Daisy scrambled to her feet and followed the family--the father, four girls and a boy--as discreetly as she could. She tried not to breathe or even blink as she watched them--she was almost undone by the squeaking wheel on her cart as she trailed behind them--but the family didn't notice her as they chattered along happily. She watched as the three older girls disappeared into the brick barrier between platforms nine and ten, but couldn't see how it was done. She couldn't bring herself to ask the man for help, and she didn't want to risk talking to the only remaining girl when her father was right there, because he might react badly to that. 

But the man seemed to sense her presence, and turned to look at her. "Hello there," the man said, sounding friendly enough, but Daisy shrank back and looked down anyway. "Are you going to Hogwarts, too?"

Daisy nodded to the floor.

"But where are your parents, dear?" the man asked.

Daisy shrugged and felt her face turning red. "Erm, they couldn't be here and I told them I'd be fine," she said, and glanced up at him. She wasn't even sure where she could say her parents were. Did witches and wizards even have jobs? With schedules and deadlines? Or would it be better to say her parents were Muggles with schedules and deadlines? 

Or was she overthinking everything--why couldn't she tell the truth? Her parents were dead, and were war heroes, and she had been raised by Muggles who didn't know or care where platform nine and three-quarters was. 

But the truth was so new that it felt like a lie. 

The red-headed father frowned at her, and Daisy shrugged again. "I'm sorry," Daisy said. "I didn't mean to bother you."

"Nonsense, dear--I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be caught staring. I suppose you're a first year? This is Veronica's first year, too." He indicated the only remaining girl, whose red hair was tangled, and wore beaten-up trainers. Daisy liked her right away, and the red-headed girl grimaced and said, "I go by 'Ronnie,' actually." And then Ronnie's brother took the opportunity to kick her in the shins.

"Damn it, Jonathan!" Ronnie said.

"Language, Veronica!"

"Sorry, Dad," Ronnie said, but when the man turned back towards Daisy, Ronnie punched her brother hard on the arm. Daisy barely held back her snort. 

The man told Daisy how to get onto the platform, which was the easiest thing in the world, once you knew how to do it. A part of her wanted to stick to Ronnie, who had seemed so friendly, but Daisy was uncomfortable with the father's concerned frowns. She pushed her cart farther along and tried to load her trunk onto the train by herself, which didn't work well. She'd barely managed to drag the trunk off the cart--smashing her foot in the process, and causing the cart to topple over--when two of the red-headed girls from the platform came over to help her. The girls were obviously twins and had easy smiles.

"Hey there," one of them said. "Need some help?"

"Sure," Daisy said, trying not to sound too grateful, but grateful enough. 

"Oi, Alex!" the girl said, apparently talking to her twin but talking far too loudly. "Help me lift this!"

"Sure thing! It looks heavy," replied the second twin. Like the first twin, she spoke far too loudly. Daisy looked at them in confusion as they leaned over the trunk and acted like they were going to pick it up, but they moved very slowly. Before they could heft the trunk, a tall boy ran over to them. 

"Here, let me get that," the boy said. 

"Oh, hey Roger. I didn't even see you--where did you come from?" said the second twin--Alex, Daisy thought. But now the twin was talking in a perfectly normal tone. 

"Oh, I was just talking to Pete," Roger said vaguely as he picked up the trunk by himself and carried it toward the train. The first twin winked at Daisy and followed the boy. 

"Where are you sitting?" Roger asked Daisy. 

"Oh, erm, anywhere, I guess," Daisy said. 

"This compartment looks empty, is that okay?"

"Sure," Daisy said, completely bewildered. The boy set down the trunk and smiled at the twins, who smiled back and giggled and complimented him on his strength. Then Roger left, and the twins turned to Daisy. 

"Sorry about that," the first twin said. "There's a time and a place for girl power, but sometimes the more direct path is to let a boy do it."

"Besides, it makes them feel so useful," the second twin agreed. "Which is an indirect path to something else." The girl grinned, more with her eyes than her mouth. "By the way, I'm Alex."

"And I'm Sam."

Daisy smiled at them. "I'm Daisy," she said.

The twins' mouths dropped, and they glanced at each other. "Daisy..."

"Evans?" Daisy hadn't meant for it to sound like a question, but she wasn't sure what the twins were after.

"Daisy Evans. Right," Sam said, and blinked a few times. "We're Weasley--Sam and Alex Weasley."

"Twins, obviously," put in Alex. "Third years."

The twins chorused together, "Slytherin House."

"It's nice to meet you, Daisy," Alex said. 

And with that, the twins left Daisy alone in her compartment, feeling overwhelmed. 

Luckily, she wasn't alone for long, as Ronnie soon poked her head in. "Do you mind if I sit in here with you? Everywhere else is full," the girl said. Daisy readily agreed, and moved over to make room. 

The girl sat down next to Daisy and barely took a breath before she said, "AreyoureallyDaisyEvans?"

"Erm," Daisy said, not sure of what the other girl had asked, but pretty sure she'd heard her own name. "I'm Daisy Evans, yeah."

"Oh," the other girl said. "I'm Ronnie Weasley. I thought Sam and Alex might be lying, sorry. Were you really raised by Muggles?"

"Yeah. Are all your sisters really witches?"

"Well, yeah, my whole family is witches and wizards, but that's boring. What are the Muggles like?"

Daisy shrugged. "I just live with my aunt and uncle and cousin, and they're--" she choked on the word "normal," as she suspected the word didn't apply to them, but she had no proof. She didn't know how to complete the sentence. "...Muggles," she finally said. "What's it like living with witches and wizards? What are your parents like?"

Ronnie shrugged. "They're just parents, I guess."

"How many sisters and brothers do you have?"

"Five sisters, one brother. You saw him on the platform--his name's Jonathan and he's alright, I guess. My sisters are Billy, Charlie, Percy, and Sam and Alex. Billy lives in Africa and works for Gringotts, Charlie lives in Romania and works with dragons, so I hardly ever see them anymore. Percy's a prefect for Ravenclaw House this year, and she's so strict with rules and stuff I can't believe I'm related to her. Sam and Alex are pretty fun, but you don't want to be on the wrong side of one of their pranks."

"Erm, why do all your sisters...why do they all have..."

"Boys' names?" Ronnie laughed. "Mum teases Dad about it all the time--about how he wanted a boy so much that he kept naming us all after boys, but it drives Dad nuts. They're all just nicknames--Billy is Belinda, and then there's Charlotte, and Priscilla, and Samantha and Alexis, and I'm Veronica. They all just got shortened, see?"

"I'm surprised they didn't name your brother 'Cary' or something."

"Yeah, but 'Jonathan' is short for 'Ginevra'."

Daisy couldn't tell if Ronnie was kidding or not, but she laughed anyway. "And 'Daisy' is short for 'Harold'," she put in, and Ronnie laughed with her. 

But something Ronnie had said--which echoed something the twins had said--made her ask another question. "You said something about houses--what's that about?"

"Oh, like Ravenclaw?"

Daisy nodded. 

"It's just where you're Sorted--into one of the Houses." And Ronnie explained about the four Houses, and how they'd sleep in the dorms.

"Which House do you want to be in?" Daisy asked.

Ronnie shrugged. "That's another thing with five older sisters--it doesn't even matter, because someone's already been in every house. Billy was Gryffindor, Charlie was Hufflepuff, Percy's in Ravenclaw like I said, and Sam and Alex are Slytherins. Since Billy and Charlie are gone, I guess I'd rather be in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, because Dad always says that it's a lot easier to get along with someone if you don't have to share a bathroom with them." Ronnie shrugged again and sighed. "I hope that's true, anyway."

They chatted away pleasantly on the train as the countryside slipped past them, until they were interrupted by a tall dark-skinned boy with an out-of-control afro and an overbearing air. He was already wearing his school robes, and was with a round-faced, timid-looking girl who seemed to regret being with her companion. 

"Excuse us," the boy said, "but have you seen a toad? This girl has lost hers."

The round-faced girl shrugged and looked down unhappily. Daisy felt sorry for her. "I haven't seen a toad, but if I do, I'll be sure to let you know. Where are you sitting?"

The round-faced girl opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the boy. "She's sitting two compartments down the train and her name is Nancy Longbottom. I'm Herman Granger. What's your name, by the way?"

Daisy and Ronnie shared a look, and Ronnie spoke first. "I'm Ronnie Weasley and this is...Daisy."

The boy did a double take, and his afro wobbled back and forth comically. "Daisy Evans?" he gasped. "It _is_ you, I can see your scar and everything! I read all about you in _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Modern Magical History!_ You're the first famous witch I've met--I'm just a first year, you know, and my parents are both dentists and were surprised when I got the letter that I was a wizard, but I've read everything I could get my hands on. What's it like being Daisy Evans?" He said all of this very fast and looked at Daisy expectantly.

Daisy looked first at Nancy Longbottom, who stared back wide-eyed, then at Ronnie, who shrugged. "Kind of...weird, right now," Daisy said, and Ronnie snickered. 

"I bet it is," Herman said, without irony. He sniffed and looked imperiously at them. "You girls had better go ahead and change into your robes--I expect we'll be at Hogwarts soon. And if you see a toad, do let Nancy or me know."

"Will do," Ronnie said, but Herman and Nancy had already left the compartment. 

"Is everyone going to be like that?" Daisy asked. "Am I really that famous? Is that why you and your sisters were acting weird?"

"Erm, you're pretty famous, yeah."

"Why?"

"Well, you lived. You're the Girl Who Lived. Didn't you know?"

Daisy sagged in her seat. "I didn't even know I was a witch until a month ago."

"But--but what about accidental magic? You must have known something. What did your aunt and uncle tell you?"

Daisy got more and more uncomfortable, and was almost relieved when a different girl opened up the compartment door. The new girl had a pointy face and white-blond hair that cascaded straight down to the middle of her back. The blond girl was flanked by two other girls who might have been older, but it was hard to tell. They weren't much taller, but they wore makeup and they both already had breasts. However, they deferred to the blond girl, who certainly looked like another first year.

"So, is it really you?" the blond girl asked Daisy. 

Daisy waited for clarification, and then realized that she maybe really was that famous. But still, how was she supposed to answer that question? "I'm Daisy," she finally said. Then, thinking she should be try to be polite, she asked, "Who are you?" Unfortunately, this question did not sound as polite as Daisy had meant it, but the other girl didn't seem to notice. 

"I'm Felina Malfoy. This is Alicia Crabbe and Gina Goyle." The girl nodded, as if the names should mean something to Daisy. 

"Well, erm, nice to meet you, Felina," she said. 

Felina finally looked away from Daisy and saw Ronnie for the first time. " _You_ must be a Weasley," Felina said, as if the name were a swear, and Ronnie fired up.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she said indignantly.

"Only that you have the look of a Weasley about you--like your family can't afford a hair brush."

The two other girls--Crabbe and Goyle--snorted appreciatively as Ronnie spluttered. 

"Don't you have anything to say?" Felina taunted. "Honestly, Daisy, you shouldn't be seen sitting with trash like _her_. You can come sit with us, if you like."

Daisy looked at Ronnie, who didn't meet her eyes, and then looked back at Felina Malfoy. Felina smiled back at her coolly. In that moment, Felina Malfoy looked exactly like Daisy's cousin, Eva, who was so used to getting her own way, and made everyone's lives unpleasant if she didn't. It almost made tears prickle the back of Daisy's eyes--she'd thought she was escaping people like _that_. 

She wanted to say something cruel and cutting, something like, "I would never want to be seen with someone as ugly as you"--but Felina was so obviously beautiful that everyone in the compartment would know it was a lie.

So instead, Daisy stuttered slightly and said, "I--I'd just as soon stay here, thanks." 

Felina Malfoy shrugged as if the rejection was nothing to her. She casually said, "Suit yourself, then," and left the compartment. 

Daisy immediately burst into tears. She tried to hide them from Ronnie, but Ronnie just hugged her. "She was awful," Daisy said. "I'm sorry." 

"That's okay," Ronnie said. "Thanks for staying here."

"Are you kidding?" Daisy said, sniffing. "She was the _worst_ \--she reminded me of my cousin."

Ronnie didn't seem to have anything to say to that; instead she just said, "Do you want to see my rat?"


	2. Serafima Snape, Potions Mistress

Early in her teaching career, Serafima Snape's youth seemed to invite personal questions from her students. She answered as directly and honestly as possible, hoping to stave off further questions. It never worked.

"Are you married?" -No. "Do you have kids?" -No. "Why not?" -Because I don't like children.

But one question that she got often, and didn't know how to best answer, was: "When did you know you wanted to be a professor?" Because honestly, she never did. She had only kept waking up in the morning, and kept putting one foot in front of the other, and let some choices be made for her, and somehow she had ended up teaching Potions at Hogwarts. She supposed she could be doing other things, but as her imagination was a dark place, the alternatives she dreamed up were universally worse than her current reality. 

Which was saying something.

So it never occurred to her that she should put forth genuine effort into a career change. But when Daisy Evans was Sorted into Slytherin, Serafima spent a few moments wondering if she could find a job less damaging to her sense of well-being. Like prostitution. 

Daisy Evans looked so much like her perfect pure-blooded mother, with her messy dark hair and slight frame. Lily Potter had been the worst kind of mean girl--the kind who could dismiss your entire existence with a look, but usually had some choice words to reinforce her theme. Casually beautiful and effortlessly intelligent, Lily was the center of the Hogwarts social circle of her year at Hogwarts, and anyone with any sense of preservation and at least one physical feature of which they could be proud--nice hair, perky tits, cute nose, anything--revolved around Lily and her gang. 

Serafima obviously didn't meet the requirements to be in Lily's orbit, and had suffered accordingly. 

And here was Daisy.

Daisy, who had just been Sorted into Slytherin, while Lily had been so very Gryffindor. 

Serafima spent the entire Welcoming Feast staring-not-staring at Daisy Evans. The girl met her eyes once, and Serafima was struck at how the girl's eyes resembled James's. 

Good, solid, gentle James Evans. Who had also been Gryffindor. 

So who was Daisy Evans? 

"Q-Q-Quite a s-s-s-surprise, how s-s-s-some of the s-s-s-students were s-s-s-sorted," said Quirina Quirrel, and Serafima finally looked away from Daisy Evans to study the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. The woman wore a turban and had a distinctive odor, like she didn't wear deodorant. And ate a lot of ethnic food, the kind that Serafima's father had preferred--the kind that permeated the skin with the smell of turmeric and garlic.

"Only if one had expectations," Serafima said. The other woman practically oozed incompetence, and yet there was something about her that was...familiar and slippery. Serafima had no wish to converse with the woman and hadn't trusted her from the start. She knew better than to take her concerns to Dumbledore, who wouldn't find it noteworthy that Serafima didn't trust someone.

By the time Serafima looked back towards Daisy, the girl was frowning and chatting with an older Slytherin. 

:-:-:-:-:-:

Serafima met her Slytherins in the common room and gave her usual speech, warning the students about curfews and getting caught, and advising them to present their best selves to the rest of the school. When she was satisfied that she'd delivered her message (one which she'd no doubt have to repeat frequently), she immediately went to the Headmistress's office to speak to the Sorting Hat.

When Serafima first started teaching, she was stunned that none of the other teachers used the hat. After all, the hat saw into the minds of all incoming students, and was discreet enough to keep almost everything to itself--except the things that the adults in charge really should know. 

On the night when the Weasley twins had been sorted into Slytherin, the hat had chuckled into Serafima's ear for ten solid minutes, before simply saying, "Good luck, then." On this night, at least, Serafima didn't have another Weasley girl to worry about; the newest arrival had been Sorted into Gryffindor.

So Serafima put the hat on her head and said, "Anything I should know about this year's crop?"

The hat sighed in reply, and Serafima kept quiet and waited for a more proper response. 

Finally, the hat said, "You're usually slower to first impressions than you've been with Daisy Evans."

"I haven't drawn any conclusions about the girl yet," Serafima denied.

"Other than the fact that she reminds you of her mother."

"In looks, certainly. But you would never have put Lily Potter in Slytherin."

"Indeed, I would not."

"Is there anything I should know about her daughter?"

"An interesting question," the hat said. "There are many things you should know about her, but nothing I feel the need to tell you. Although..."

"Although what?"

"I wish you could get to know her without the specter of her mother--or even her father--coloring your opinions. You'd do well to make an effort with her."

Serafima sighed. 

The hat said, "Lily Potter always had a good heart, even if she misjudged a few things. But Daisy Evans has none of her experiences or prejudices. In fact..."

"What?"

"She has much in common with you, Serafima."

Serafima's blood ran cold.

"So you can see that you must treat her with care," the hat said. 

Serafima took the hat off carefully and replaced it on the shelf. Before she could leave the office, Dumbledore appeared.

Ariana Dumbledore was short, stocky, and had short-cropped white hair. She would have looked unremarkable but for her bright patchwork robes and her orange hat with yellow feathers sticking out the top. Serafima thought that Dumbledore must cultivate the dotty grandmotherly look to put others at ease, but the old woman never seemed to actively cultivate anything of the sort. Moreover, Ariana Dumbledore trusted Serafima and championed her and saved her. All of which intimidated the hell out of Serafima. 

"Ah, Serafima," the old woman said. "Just the woman I wanted to see. Please, sit--I have much to discuss with you."

Serafima sighed. "Yes, of course, Headmistress," she said, and sat back down in front of Dumbledore's desk. 

"I was surprised to see Miss Malfoy sorted into Gryffindor--as was Melvin McGonagall, I think," Dumbledore said.

Felina Malfoy's House was not what Dumbledore wished to discuss. Serafima would have liked to take control of the conversation--either by discussing Felina Malfoy at great length and with much detail; or by disregarding this statement altogether and bringing up Daisy Evans herself. But the headmistresses would maintain control no matter what Serafima said, so she said the thing that would shorten the conversation.

"Daisy Evans is in Slytherin," she said.

"Indeed she is," Dumbledore said. "Another blow to Melvin's expectations."

"And to yours, if I'm not much mistaken."

Dumbledore raised her eyebrows. "Not entirely a surprise, no, but I had hoped..."

Serafima stood suddenly. "My House is not the house of evil, Headmistress." She spoke crisply and quietly. "You of all people should remember that."

"But it is the house of ambition and cunning."

"Oh, of course," Serafima bit out. "And if Daisy Evans is to be our savior, you'd rather she were foolhardy and saw the world in absolutes. There's no room in this world for a hero who is subtle and perceives nuance."

"Serafima," Dumbledore said, chastising. "Sit. And convince me that you don't see Amy's influence in how Daisy was Sorted."

Serafima flinched at the familiar name Dumbledore used for the Dark Lady, but remained standing. "Do you see _her_ influence in every Slytherin, then, Dumbledore?"

The old woman smiled. "Thank you, Serafima. That's a promising start. But you and I both know that Daisy is _not_ any other student, no matter what House she was Sorted into."

Serafima blinked. "No, she's not," she finally said.

"You'd do well to watch over her and guide her."

"Perhaps you could do the same, even if she is in Slytherin," Serafima said, and left the headmistress's office before she got truly angry. First the hat, then the headmistress--having Daisy Evans in her House was more trouble than it was worth, and the girl had barely been inside the castle walls for three hours. 

As Serafima stormed through the corridors toward the dungeons, she turned a corner and nearly ran into Melvin McGonagall, the droopy-eyed, square-jawed Head of Gryffindor House. 

"Oh, Professor Snape," he said, "there you are. I've been looking for you."

"Of course you have," Serafima said. "I suppose you want to make sure I see Miss Evans for herself and not for her mother, and look out for any mark the Dark Lady may have left on her person--aside from the obvious?"

Inexplicably, Melvin smiled at this. "That's the short of it, yes, but I see others have beat me to it," he said. "I also wanted to say that I know Lily was horrible to you when you were younger, and it will be hard for you--having her daughter in your House--so if you need any help at all, let me know."

Serafima was stunned into silence, and felt her mouth open and close several times.

Melvin continued, "I still feel guilty about that, and I've said it before and I'll say it again: I didn't know the extent Lily and her friends took it at the time, and when I found out I was horrified. Helping you in any way will help to...ameliorate my guilt, I think--even if you just come around for tea." There was another short pause which Serafima didn't fill. Melvin clicked his tongue. "Also," he said, much louder than he had been moments before, "Paul is looking for you."

_Paul?_ What could the school healer have to say about Daisy Evans? Before Serafima could ask, Melvin disappeared from the corridor. 

Paul Pomfrey. Serafima felt her stomach drop. Whatever Pomfrey wanted, it couldn't be good news--even if it didn't have anything to do with Daisy Evans. Serafima went to the hospital wing and greeted the man who had ruddy cheeks and wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. 

"Hullo Sera," Paul said. "I'm glad you're here--two students have already been by for Pepper-Up potion--there may be something going around already. Can you brew up a big batch, just in case?"

This was the best possible thing Paul could have said, but it still wasn't welcome. Serafima was responsible for a houseful of students, and had classes to teach tomorrow. "Can it wait until the weekend?" she asked.

"Well...possibly, but if there is a bug going around, it will be unpleasant."

Serafima scowled. "Can it wait, at least, until tomorrow evening?"

"I suppose--I know the first night back is not the best time for brewing."

"Hm," Serafima said, not willing to be gracious, even if she was grateful to have a conversation about something other than Daisy Evans. "I make no promises." 

"Thanks, Sera. On another note, isn't it exciting that the Girl Who Lived is in your House?"

Serafima sighed deeply, and turned to walk away without another word.

But of course she brewed the Pepper-Up potion that night, although she ruined the first batch. She was supposed to add the orange peels when the potion was in its clear blue phase, but it seemed like she blinked and the potion was already solid black. She swore, then Vanished the lot of it and started over. It didn't matter; if she slept at all that night, she was sure to have terrible dreams.

James had died protecting that little girl. And now Serafima stood _in loco parentis_. In the place of James. 

Miraculously, Serafima brewed the second batch of Pepper-Up perfectly.

The next day was an easy one--the first day of school was never complicated. The students were still mostly asleep, and the novelty of being back at Hogwarts hadn't worn off yet. Serafima set her classes a review potion--one that required the ingredients to be prepared at least three different ways. In theory, this was to remind the students of the critical difference between chopping and slicing, mincing and dicing, shredding and crushing. In practice, however, most students ruined their potions, even though Serafima spent the first fifteen minutes of class discussing the different preparations, and showing pictures of a potato prepared in each of the different ways.

On days like this, she just wanted to put the recipe on the board and sit at her desk with her head in her hands. But she never forgot a story that old Regina Slughorn had shared when Serafima first took the job: once, the old Potions Mistress had been hungover, and so had set her first year students to brew tea--she'd told them it was a Strengthening Solution--and one of the students _still_ managed to melt his cauldron.

Serafima had thought the old professor was exaggerating, at first. But she knew better now. She circulated around the room, being careful not to be silent in her wanderings. (She deliberately wore hard-soled shoes that clicked on the stone floor--her first year teaching, she wore soft shoes and accidentally startled a boy into dropping an entire flask of powdered moonstone into his Scouring Solution, and ever since then, during the moon's waning quarter, her classroom reeked of vinegar.)

She consoled herself that she didn't have first years until Friday. 

:-:-:-:-:-:

Daisy Evans was overwhelmed. Learning _magic_ in a _school for magic_ , because she was a _witch_ \--well, she tried not to think about it, because it made her freeze up. She'd done once at breakfast, when her thoughts and words and actions all got caught up in a loop of "I'M A WITCH LEARNING MAGIC IN A CASTLE," and finally, she'd somehow managed to come back to herself and she'd blinked quickly and found herself staring at a forkful of eggs that she was holding inches from her mouth. No one around her had noticed anything, so perhaps she hadn't been stuck like that for long. 

For all of her wonder at learning magic, she'd actually done very little of the sort. In almost all of her classes, they'd been taking introductory notes, and learning a little bit of history. The only teacher who had them attempt to do any magic so far was Professor McGonagall, who had set them the task of transfiguring a matchstick into a needle. No one in the class had managed it, although Daisy thought that maybe her matchstick was a little shinier than when she'd started (although that may have been because of her sweaty hands)--but Professor McGonagall was not disturbed by this. "Transfiguration is notoriously difficult," he'd said. "Objects are stubborn and it takes a lot of magical force to get them to change. You will all get there." And then he'd set them all an essay for homework ("Describe Alino's method for transfiguring wood into metal").

Then there were her classmates. The first-year Slytherin girls and boys were a rather reserved lot. They seemed as uncomfortable with direct eye contact as she was herself, and other than a few mumbled pleasantries, they exchanged very few words. She liked her dorm mates well enough--Theresa Nott and Beth Zabini had quiet smiles that put Daisy at ease. Gina Goyle was also in her dorm, but even she seemed fine without Felina Malfoy and Alicia Crabbe, who had both Sorted into Gryffindor. Sam and Alex Weasley were far more outgoing, but Daisy really only saw them when they held court in the Slytherin common room in the evenings. Daisy wished that she could spend more time with more exuberant people like Ronnie, but when she saw Ronnie and the rest of the Gryffindors--mainly at mealtimes--she understood that that much exuberance would be exhausting for her. 

Besides, Felina Malfoy was a Gryffindor. Daisy didn't know how Ronnie could stand it. 

Daisy didn't think she'd get a chance to talk to Ronnie until Friday's Potions lesson, which they would have together, but was surprised to exit her first-ever Herbology lesson to find Ronnie and the other Gryffindors waiting to come in. Ronnie pulled her into a quick hug that was as welcome as it was unexpected. 

"I've been wondering if we _have_ to sit with our Houses at meals, or if it's just tradition," Ronnie said by way of greeting. "How are you? I've missed you!"

Daisy smiled. "I'm well, thank you. I've missed you, too."

"It's okay, though," Ronnie said. "Remember how my dad says that it's easier to get along if we don't have to share a bathroom? Being in different Houses is probably the best thing for us, if we're going to be best friends."

Daisy couldn't help the warm laughter that bubbled up in her, nor the tears that weirdly sprang into her eyes. Ronnie was definitely a Gryffindor, and Daisy definitely wasn't. Daisy had much more in common with her subdued Housemates, but Gina Goyle constantly left bottles and tubes all over the bathroom sink, and Theresa Nott left a lot of hair in the shower.

"You're right," Daisy said, and hugged Ronnie again. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Yep--we have Potions together, did you see?"

"First thing Friday morning--I've been looking forward to it all week!"

They were interrupted by Felina Malfoy's sneering voice. "This is all very touching, but I'd prefer to not be made late by your outpouring of emotions." And before Daisy or Ronnie could think of a response, Felina had pushed her way through, with Alicia Crabbe following her and giggling. 

Ronnie glared at the blond girl's back. "She is such a twat," she said.

"I can't believe you have to share a bathroom with her," Daisy said, and the two girls broke into giggles. 

When Friday morning finally arrived, Daisy hurried to breakfast in the Great Hall, but didn't see Ronnie at the Gryffindor table. She ate distractedly, scanning the hall for Ronnie, but eventually gave up and walked down to the dungeon classroom alone. 

She found Felina Malfoy and Alicia Crabbe already in the Potions classroom, sitting at a table in the front. Gina Goyle, who must have been walking behind Daisy, pushed around her to go sit next to them. Gina whispered something to the other two girls, who giggled and looked back at Daisy. Malfoy smirked and the three girls turned back to their table and kept whispering. 

Daisy sat down miserably, at an empty table as far away from Malfoy as she could. She wasn't alone for long; Beth Zabini and David Greengrass, a Slytherin boy, sat down next to her. Beth nudged her arm and gave a little half-smile. Daisy nodded, and got her Potions book and a quill out of her bag. 

But Ronnie still hadn't shown up by the time Professor Snape entered the classroom, which gave Daisy something else to worry about.

Professor Snape was terrifying. She barely raised her voice above a whisper, and even when all she did was call the roll, everyone's name suddenly sounded like a threat. 

"Daisy Evans." 

Daisy didn't think she imagined the pause Professor Snape put before her name, nor did she think it was her imagination that her name sounded downright viscous when it came out of the woman's mouth. "Present," Daisy squeaked.

Professor Snape narrowed her eyes at Daisy, but continued calling the roll. 

"Veronica Weasley."

The silence that followed the name was oppressive. Daisy couldn't help but look around the room, but Ronnie still wasn't there. 

After a pause, Felina Malfoy spoke up. "I don't think Weasley's coming, Ma'am. This morning, she said something about dirty Slytherins not worth her time." As she said the last bit, Malfoy looked over at Daisy and smirked.

Daisy sunk lower in her chair. 

"Don't listen to her," Beth Zabini whispered in her ear. "That sounds more like something Malfoy would say than Weasley."

"But where _is_ she?" Daisy whispered back.

"Evans!" Professor Snape snapped, and Daisy jumped. "Side conversations are not permitted in my classroom, unless you think you already know all there is to know about potions?"

The professor paused for a horrible moment, so Daisy said, "No, ma'am."

"Indeed. But let's make sure: what do you get when you add the powdered root of asphodel into an infusion of wormwood?"

Daisy slid her eyes toward Beth, but Professor Snape made her jump again. "Don't look to your neighbors--I asked you! Root of asphodel and wormwood--what does that make?"

"I--I don't know, ma'am." Daisy could see Malfoy looking at her in delight, and tried to ignore it.

"You don't say," Professor Snape said silkily. "What about a more basic question--where would you find a bezoar?" 

A _bezoar_ sounded like a wild pig, or maybe a sleeping wild pig, but even if that's what a bezoar was, Daisy still didn't know where to find one. She could see Malfoy whispering to Crabbe and Goyle, but forced herself to look up at Professor Snape, and looked away again quickly. "I don't know, ma'am."

"Fascinating," the woman said. "What is the difference between monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

_Best to get this over with quickly_ , Daisy thought. "I don't know, ma'am," she said to the table. She could hear the snickers coming from Malfoy's table, and felt herself turning red. Tears prickled her eyes, but she fought them with everything she had. 

Professor Snape set her hands on the table in front of Daisy, fingertips pressing down, and Daisy felt the woman leaning over her. When the professor spoke, it was almost in Daisy's hair, in a quiet voice that nevertheless carried through the classroom. "That is why you pay attention in my class. Because you are ignorant, and you are here to learn. So, listen to me: asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is called The Draught of the Living Death. A bezoar is a stone, taken from the stomach of a goat, which can counter most poisons. And monkshood and Wolfsbane are the same plant, which also goes by the name aconite." The professor straightened and looked around the classroom. "Well? Why aren't you writing this down?"

Daisy relaxed slightly as the professor moved away, but jumped again when the woman said, "Evans!" 

"Yes, ma'am?" Daisy squeaked reflexively. 

"Stay after class."

A tear fell down Daisy's cheek, and she hoped Malfoy hadn't seen it. "Yes, ma'am," she whispered, because her voice didn't allow for more than that. 

Then Professor Snape set them a potion that could cure boils. "As underdeveloped as your magic is at this stage, you need not worry. Even a Muggle could brew this cure--it's more of a tonic than a potion."

If the professor had meant this to be reassuring, it was not. The potion was supposed to be thick and purple, and Daisy's was like greenish water. Beth Zabini's was at least purple, but was completely solid, and David Greengrass's was putting out alarming amounts of yellow steam. As Daisy looked around the room, she saw that everyone's potions were similarly bad, and Nancy Longbottom had even managed to melt her cauldron. And then Daisy saw Felina Malfoy's potion. It was maybe not quite as purple as it should have been, but it was definitely deep lavender, and was the perfect consistency. Professor Snape was just praising her work when Ronnie burst in through the classroom door. 

"I'm sorry I'm late, Professor--I just woke up--I don't know what happened to my alarm--I'm sorry!" 

The truth of it was written all over Ronnie. She was panting, and panicky. Her robe was on inside-out, her hair was bunched up on one side of her head, and her face was slightly puffy. Daisy could have hugged her if she wasn't so afraid of Professor Snape. 

Professor Snape herself turned around slowly on the spot, seeming to glare at all the Gryffindor girls in turn, but missing Felina who sat right by her side. "What an indictment on Gryffindor morals," the professor purred. Daisy didn't even know what that meant, but by the professor's tone, it couldn't be good. "You all ignored your sleeping dorm-mate, and enjoyed your breakfast, and skipped down to your first class, confident that _you_ , at least, were awake and ready to go."

Beth Zabini whispered in Daisy's ear: "And lied about where Weasley was, like Malfoy."

Daisy agreed but didn't dare respond. She had a feeling she knew exactly what had happened to Ronnie's alarm that morning. Felina Malfoy's face remained impassive, though several other Gryffindors burned with shame, Nancy Longbottom and Deena Thomas among them. 

The professor continued, "You ignored the fact that when one of you falters, all of you look bad. Ten points from Gryffindor. Miss Weasley, you will stay after class."

"Yes, ma'am," Ronnie said, and looked desperately around the classroom. She caught Daisy's eye, and made to walk over until she saw Beth and David sitting at the same table, then appeared to make a valiant attempt to be swallowed by the floor. Daisy shrugged at her friend in commiseration just as the bell rang. She was glad both of them had to stay after class. 

As the class filed out, Ronnie made her way over to Daisy, and Daisy could hear various Gryffindor girls mumbling, "Sorry, Ronnie. I thought you were just having a lie-in." Felina Malfoy was not among them.

Before Daisy and Ronnie could do more than greet each other, Professor Snape summoned them over to her desk. The girls approached slowly. 

"Veronica Weasley," Snape said.

"I--er--I go by 'Ronnie,' actually." 

Professor Snape glared at Ronnie, nonplussed. 

"...Ma'am," Ronnie added belatedly, and bit her lip.

"You will not be late to my class again. You will get today's notes from Beth Zabini, and--"

"I can get my notes from Daisy, Ma'am."

"Miss Evans's notes were abysmal," Professor Snape said, and Daisy clenched her jaw. "You will get your notes from Miss Zabini, who took very adequate notes this morning, and you will do so before tomorrow morning at 9:00, at which time I will expect you in this classroom--"

"But tomorrow's Saturday!"

"And you have a detention, which is very generous of me because I am going to allow you the opportunity to brew today's potion for which you have earned a zero."

Ronnie didn't seem to have anything to say to that, which made Professor Snape nod. "Good," she said. "Now leave. I have something to discuss with Miss Evans."

Ronnie looked at Daisy desperately, but Daisy was far too nervous to respond. Instead she gave a tight nod, and Ronnie left somewhat reluctantly.

The door snicked shut behind Ronnie and Daisy fixed her stare on the floor. There was no sound for several long moments. Then Daisy heard the rustling of robes and felt a tingle of magic seal the room. She dared a glance up and found Professor Snape studying her. 

The woman spoke, finally. "I have never liked children, Miss Evans, and I don't expect to start any time soon."

Daisy waited a beat. "Yes, ma'am. I mean, no, ma'am." She wasn't sure what she was meant to say. 

"You should know, however, that Felina Malfoy's mother is very wealthy and very influential. As such, I am somewhat...beholden to her. And appearances...are important." 

Daisy wasn't sure what to make of that. Her aunt and uncle had said similar things about appearances, but when they said those things, it sounded far more menacing. Ironically, this was the first thing the professor had said that _didn't_ sound like a threat. "No one is watching now, ma'am," Daisy ventured.

"Indeed," Professor Snape said, as if Daisy had answered a question correctly. 

A very long silence followed this, but Daisy felt like something in the room had shifted, and she found she wasn't afraid of Snape anymore. "May...may I leave now, ma'am?"

"Two things, before you do. First, you may come down here tomorrow morning at 9:00 to re-brew your potion, if you wish."

Daisy looked down, almost pleased. Even if it sounded like detention, she'd get to spend it with Ronnie. "And the other thing?"

"You are Slytherin. Your friend is not. If you would...explain the situation to her?"

Daisy agreed but didn't see Ronnie for the rest of the morning. This gave her plenty of time to think about what she would tell her. 

During lunch, Daisy ignored all conventions and walked right over to the Gryffindor table, sitting down next to the still-bedraggled redhead. 

"Hi, Daisy!" Ronnie said and pulled some of her unbrushed hair out of her face.

"Hey Ronnie," Daisy said, and dropped her voice. "Listen: Professor Snape is _mental_."

"What did she want to talk to you about?" Ronnie asked, in a similar low voice.

"She wanted me to explain to you that she's mental. And that I'll be there tomorrow morning to brew that potion with you."

Ronnie smiled. "That's great, Days."

"I thought so, too. Pass the potatoes?"


	3. Brooms and Bullies

At 7:00 on Saturday morning, Nancy Longbottom shook Ronnie awake. 

"Wuz wrong, Nancy?" Ronnie asked in a rough voice.

"Nothing," Nancy said in a harsh whisper. "I just didn't want you to miss your detention with Snape this morning. I mean, your alarm is back but I wasn't sure if you'd set it, or if someone had messed with it, so I set my alarm, too."

"Oh," Ronnie said. 

"Professor Snape scares me, and I don't want her to take more points," Nancy whispered.

"Okay," Ronnie said. 

"I think you should get up, now."

"Right," Ronnie said. 

And then Nancy shook Ronnie again, and Ronnie opened her eyes, which was weird because she couldn't remember closing them.

"You need to get up and eat breakfast--you have less than two hours before your detention!" Nancy whispered.

At that moment, Ronnie and Nancy were both hit by a heavy pillow that had come flying from across the room. 

"Would you two SHUT UP?" Felina Malfoy shrieked from her bed. "Some of us are TRYING to SLEEP!"

The yelling made Alicia Crabbe shoot up out of her bed; Deena Thomas groaned and rolled over; but Siobhan Finnigan didn't even move. 

Ronnie sat up and tried to throw the pillow back at Felina, but barely managed to throw the thing two feet. "I'm up, Nancy," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. "Thanks for waking me." 

Ronnie stumbled into the bathroom, and halfheartedly got ready for the day. She started to brush her hair, but after only brushing the top part--mostly--she gave it up as a bad job. 

When she went down to breakfast, she was surprised to see Daisy already at the Slytherin table. Since the Great Hall was nearly empty (and the Gryffindor table was particularly so), Ronnie walked over to her friend. 

"You're up early," Ronnie said, sitting down and yawning.

"I'm just used to it, I guess," Daisy said.

"Oh, before I forget--" Ronnie said, pulling a notebook out of her schoolbag, "can you give this back to Beth? It's her Potions notes. And thank her for me."

By the time they finished breakfast, it was already time to go to their detention. When they entered the classroom, Professor Snape told them where to set up their potions and they started right in. Then Snape sat down at her desk and graded papers, completely ignoring the girls. Intimidated by her presence, Ronnie and Daisy kept their whispered conversations to a bare minimum: "Can I borrow some of your dried nettles?" or "Did you cut your porcupine quill?"

Ronnie's potion had the perfect consistency but was a little too dark; Daisy's was the right shade of purple but was a little thin. When they turned these potions in, Professor Snape was silent, her face blank.

"Erm, can we go then, Professor?" Ronnie asked.

"If Miss Evans can tell me two other names for aconite."

Ronnie could sense Daisy tensing up next to her. "Er...is that the wolf one?" Daisy asked.

Professor Snape nodded.

"And the priest?" Daisy asked.

This rang a bell for Ronnie. "Monk," she said. "That's it. It's monkshood and Wolfsbane."

Professor Snape looked at Ronnie sharply. "I see you did indeed find the notes from Miss Zabini."

Ronnie felt her face turning bright red. "Yes ma'am, sorry."

"Don't apologize. Can either of you name two of the ingredients in the Draught of Living Death?"

Daisy looked at Ronnie hopefully, but Ronnie wasn't as sure for this one. She gave it a go anyway. "Woodworm and...alosphel?"

Snape sneered. "Close, Miss Weasley, but not quite. If you needed to counter a poison, what substance could you try?"

Daisy looked at Ronnie again, but Ronnie didn't have a clue. "It was...a sleeping wild pig," Daisy said. 

Professor Snape sighed. "A bezoar, ladies."

Ronnie burst into laughter. "A sleeping wild pig!" She chuckled a few more times before she noticed the look on Professor Snape's face, then rapidly composed herself. "Sorry, ma'am," she mumbled.

"Study your notes before the next class, and research the ingredients for next week's potions."

"Yes ma'am," Ronnie and Daisy chorused.

"And Miss Weasley?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"I don't care if you never brush your hair again, but in the future, you will tie back that rat's nest when you brew a potion."

"Yes, ma'am," Ronnie said, feeling herself blushing crimson again.

:-:-:-:-:-:

The next week, they still didn't learn magic in any classes. Daisy almost wished she was back in Potions--Professor Snape may have been mental, but brewing a cure for boils had been the most magical thing she'd ever intentionally done. 

Meanwhile, in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Quirrel made them take more notes about the difference between hexes and jinxes ("Hexes require a more malevolent intent than jinxes," Daisy dutifully copied from the board, even though she wasn't quite sure what that meant, only that her notes from last week very clearly said, "Jinxes require a more malevolent intent than hexes"); in Herbology they crushed different leaves in their fingers and smelled them and made note of any sticky or colorful residues ("This will be very important later if Professor Sprout asks about it on a test," Herman Granger told Daisy, which made Daisy wish that Slytherins didn't have Herbology with Ravenclaws); and in Charms, Professor Flitwick continued to talk about different classes of charms ("There are marked differences in Object-Oriented Charms and Person-Oriented Charms," Professor Flitwick told them, but then she said that the Magical World didn't always agree on which charms went in which category. "The problem is that most of the so-called 'charms' we argue over are actually better classified as hexes or jinxes." This made Daisy a little crazy, but she wrote it down in her notes, all the same). 

It was like the professors were describing _how_ to multiply numbers, and giving notes about different methods for multiplying numbers, and drawing pictures representing multiplying numbers...but no one ever got into details like "Six times seven is forty-two."

Except for Professor Snape. Daisy re-copied her potions notes after looking at Beth's, and this is what she wrote:

1\. root of asphodel + wormwood = Draught of Living Death

2\. bezoar: from stomach of a goat, cures poisons

3\. wolfsbane = monkshood = aconite  


Reading over this, she thought that what Professor Snape was saying was:

1\. You need to know how ingredients go together to make things. 

2\. You need to know where to find ingredients for potions, especially antidotes.

3\. You need to know all the names for something, because if a potion calls for monkshood, and you can only find aconite, ...well. 

On Wednesday morning, there was a notice posted in the Slytherin common room that first years would have a flying lesson on Thursday. And they would share the lesson with Gryffindor, which meant Ronnie would be there, but so would Felina.

Ronnie had seen a similar notice in the Gryffindor common room, and came over to the Slytherin table for breakfast so she could talk to Daisy about it. "It's going to be so much fun!"

Daisy was a little less enthusiastic about it. "But...flying? I don't suppose the brooms have training wheels?"

Ronnie frowned at her in confusion. 

"Nevermind. It's just...it's weird that I'm a witch, and I'm going to be flying on a broom. That's just too weird."

"What's weird about it?"

Daisy frowned unhappily. "Nevermind." Sometimes, when Daisy was talking with Ronnie, it seemed like she would never fit in to the Magical world. 

"Oh, Daisy, you'll love it. Just wait."

"What if I don't love it?"

Ronnie looked confused again. "Everyone loves flying." She paused for a thoughtful moment. "I bet Herman Granger won't love it." 

Daisy laughed despite herself. Herman was probably trying to find a book that explained how to fly in great detail. "Do you have any classes with him?"

"Only Charms, thank Merlin. You?"

"Herbology."

"He is very smart," Ronnie said fairly.

"He is," Daisy agreed.

"Completely unbearable, though."

" _Completely_."

"Well, at least we won't learn flying with Ravenclaws."

"Yes, but we will be learning with Felina Malfoy..."

Ronnie snorted. "I have _every_ class with her, and sleep in the same room. It's...Dad told me to stay positive and look for the good in the situation."

Daisy thought about it for a while. "What's...what's the good in the situation?"

"I'm working on that." 

Daisy tried to think a positive thought about Malfoy, but decided she didn't know the girl well enough to think of anything. So she tried to think of something nice about her cousin Eva, who was so similar to Malfoy. "Eva doesn't snore," she said.

(And she didn't. Daisy had only found this out recently, when Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had tried to run away from her Hogwarts letter. It was the first time Daisy had slept in the same room as Eva, and was completely surprised by the lack of snoring. She'd known for a long time that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia snored--she could hear them all the way down in her cupboard. She'd always assumed Eva was snoring, too.)

"Who's Eva?"

"Oh, that's my cousin. She's a lot like Malfoy."

"Oh. Well, Felina doesn't snore, either."

"Hm."

"That's...that's not a solid base for a friendship, is it?"

"Probably not," Daisy said, and turned toward the Gryffindor table to look at Felina for inspiration. "She's pretty."

Ronnie's shoulders slumped. "She is pretty. But it's not like she could be more of a twat if she were ugly."

"That's...true," Daisy said. "I'm sorry you have to live with her."

At that moment, they were interrupted by Sam and Alex, Ronnie's older twin sisters, who sat down across from Daisy and Ronnie.

"What's this, sis? Sitting at a table with Slytherins?" Sam said.

Ronnie wrinkled her nose. "Funny. A couple of years ago, I actually found out that I've been sitting at a table with Slytherins _my whole life_." 

"Fair enough," said Alex. "Though you probably should have guessed before we were actually Sorted. We've had you pegged as a Gryffindor since birth."

Sam nodded. "It was the hair."

"I have the same hair as you two!"

"But when was the last time you actually brushed it?" Alex asked. 

"I brushed it yesterday!" Ronnie said, and Daisy snorted. Ronnie glared at her. "Besides," Ronnie said, turning back to her sisters, "what's that got to do with Gryffindor? Felina Malfoy brushes her hair at _least_ three times a day!"

"Different sort of Gryffindor, sis," Sam said.

"It's the difference between bravery and courage," Alex said, and Sam nodded.

No one spoke for a moment. Ronnie finally asked, "What does that _mean?"_

Sam and Alex erupted into laughter. Ronnie and Daisy looked at each other, and Daisy shrugged. "I think they just thought it sounded good," she said.

"Indeed," Alex said, still smiling. "Ronnie dearest, I'm glad you've made a Slytherin friend who can explain our humor to you."

:-:-:-:-:-:

Thursday morning, Ronnie got a letter from her dad, advising her further about the Felina Malfoy situation. "I know it's hard, love," her dad wrote,

But you're going to have a share a room with her for the next seven years, so try not to cross wands too early. Besides, she might be acting the way she is because she's not good at making friends--knowing her family as your mother and I do, I can tell you that she doesn't have good role models at home. Try showing her kindness, or at least not hostility. And good luck, and don't be too disappointed if you find that poisonous toadstools don't change their spots. But maybe regular toadstools don't change their spots, either, and if you look closely enough, you may find the toadstool isn't poisonous at all. 

Ronnie read the letter over breakfast, and it reminded her of something the twins had said yesterday. Before she could put it all together, she noticed Nancy Longbottom sitting next to her, clutching a bright red sphere and looking very concerned.

"What is that, Nancy?" Ronnie asked.

Nancy looked up and seemed to notice Ronnie for the first time. "Oh, it's a Remembrall. My grandpa just sent it to me." 

"What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing, I suppose," Nancy said, looking unhappy. "It's just glowing red because I've forgotten something."

"What'd you forget?"

"I can't remember."

"Huh," Ronnie said, and the girls examined the red sphere for a moment. "Limited usefulness, that."

"Maybe," Nancy said. "I wrote my grandpa and told him I was having a hard time finding my way to all my classes. I guess he thought this would help."

"Can I hold it?"

"Sure."

Ronnie took the Remembrall in her hands; it still glowed red. She frowned and sat it on the table, where it turned pearly white. She picked it up again and it turned red. "What am I forgetting?" she said out loud. 

Unfortunately, at that moment Felina Malfoy happened to be walking by and overheard. "You definitely forgot to brush your hair. _Again_."

Brushing her hair...poisonous and ordinary toadstools--Sam and Alex had talked about the difference between bravery and courage, but then acted like they were just having her on. But it seemed to Ronnie that there was a difference, kind of. Right now, bravery seemed like something that happened all at once, on the outside--and courage was something that was ongoing, a long battle on the inside. Did it take bravery or courage to find out what kind of toadstool Malfoy was? She thought it maybe took a little bit of both. She looked down at the Remembrall in her hands; it had lightened--slightly--to a dark pink. 

"What is that thing, anyway?" Felina asked. 

"Nancy's grandpa sent her a Remembrall. Do you want to see it?" Belatedly, Ronnie realized that it wasn't hers to offer; she looked at Nancy and Nancy shrugged back. 

But Felina didn't hesitate; she had already grabbed the ball out of Ronnie's hand. The orb turned bright red again. "Why's it red?" she asked.

"Because you've forgotten something," Nancy said.

Felina frowned, then her face brightened and the Remembrall turned a pearly white. "Oh! I left my History of Magic book on my bed!" She turned around and left the Great Hall with the lily-white Remembrall still clutched in her hand.

Ronnie and Nancy stared after her. "Is she even human?" Ronnie asked, then shook herself. "Of course not--she's a toadstool."

"What?"

"Nothing. Oh, shite, she took your Remembrall!"

"That's okay--I'm sure she'll give it back later."

Nancy looked doubtful at her own words, but Felina Malfoy did give back the Remembrall just before their first class. She wasn't very kind about it, though. "You may as well let me keep it," Felina told Nancy, as she handed the ball over and it turned bright red again. "It's not as if it's doing _you_ any good, anyway." 

Nancy turned as red as the Remembrall, and said, "It's a gift from my grandpa, though."

Felina snorted and flounced into the History of Magic classroom.

Ronnie spent all class thinking about what her dad had said.

Ronnie loved her dad. She may have told Daisy that she didn't care what House she got, but her dad had been Gryffindor, so she was quite pleased by her own Sorting. Her mum had been Gryffindor, too, and Ronnie loved her mum, but in a distant sort of way. Her mum worked at the Ministry of Magic, and was gone a lot of the time. Her dad was the one who stayed at home and taught her and her siblings before they came to Hogwarts, and cooked their meals and healed their scrapes and bruises. 

If her dad had asked her to fly into the sun, she would have given it a serious attempt. Instead, all he had asked was for her to show kindness to an unpleasant girl. And it was hard, because Felina Malfoy was so relentlessly unpleasant, but Ronnie had to be courageous in the long run, and brave in short bursts. And she could do that, because she was Gryffindor, like her dad. 

Unfortunately, Felina Malfoy tested her resolve only a few hours later, at their flying lesson. Daisy had come over to stand with Ronnie and the other Gryffindors, but they hadn't had a chance to exchange more than a few words before Nancy's broom shot up and the poor girl fell and broke her wrist. Sir Hooch, their flying instructor, had taken Nancy to the hospital wing and left twenty eleven-year-olds outside on a beautiful day, with no adult supervision, and twenty-one brooms. 

Ronnie looked at the broom in her hands, and looked at Daisy. Ronnie positively _trembled_ with the effort of staying on the ground. "Just wait, Daisy," she said. "It's...it's _brilliant_." 

Daisy didn't look convinced, but a cackle from Malfoy distracted them both. The blond girl held up Nancy's Remembrall and called out, "Looks like that fat lump dropped something else, besides herself!" 

And suddenly, Ronnie was trembling for a different reason. 

"What is that?" Daisy whispered.

"It's Nancy's--something her grandpa sent to her this morning," Ronnie whispered back.

But Malfoy was still crowing. "Did you see the look on her face? She should never have been Sorted into Gryffindor!" Gina Goyle and Alicia Crabbe laughed heartily at this, but Ronnie burned up on the inside. So what if Nancy wasn't necessarily _brave_ \--if she was in Gryffindor, then she must have plenty of _courage_ , then. 

But all Ronnie managed to do was splutter. She was torn between her desire to defend Nancy and her father's request to be kind to Malfoy. 

But it still surprised her when Daisy spoke up. "Shut up, Felina." Daisy said it quietly, but somehow everyone heard it.

Felina laughed. "And you're going to stop me?" 

Daisy just glared, and Felina laughed again. "Why don't I just put this somewhere high up, where it can only be reached by a broom, and then tell Longbottom where it is? Do you think she'd be brave enough to fetch it herself?"

And before anyone could blink, Malfoy took off on her broom and flew high overhead. 

And then--nothing could have prepared Ronnie for this-- _Daisy_ took off into the air after her. 

_And Daisy was amazing on a broom_. Felina recognized this quickly, and threw Nancy's Remembrall as high and a far as she could, and hastily made her way to the ground. But all eyes were on Daisy as she went into the most spectacular dive ever attempted on a school broom. Ronnie almost couldn't watch, but she absolutely could not look away as Daisy caught the ball low--far too low to pull the rickety broom from the dive, but Daisy simply rolled off the broom, did a neat little flip, and landed almost softly on the grass, in a sitting position, clutching the Remembrall in both hands. 

It was glowing pearly white. 

Ronnie didn't even have time to be amazed by the dive or the landing or the white Remembrall before she heard Professor McGonagall's booming voice: "DAISY EVANS!"

:-:-:-:-:-:

Serafima was sitting in her office grading papers when Melvin McGonagall knocked and let himself in. He closed the door behind him, which Serafima found oddly ominous. 

"Something on your mind, Melvin?" she asked coolly, and focused back on her papers. No need to let the older man know she was unsettled.

"You can drop that act right now, young lady, because you're going to want to hear what I have to tell you. Although it's a wrench, telling you this, but I'm too bloody honorable to keep it to myself."

Serafima sighed, and Melvin took that as an invitation to sit down.

"So I was just minding my own business and happened to be walking through the entrance hall when Sir Hooch came in with Miss Longbottom. There had been a small incident during their flying lesson--but Sir Hooch asked me to go check on the remaining students to make sure their feet stayed connected to terra firma. By the time I made it out to the pitch, there were, in fact, two students aloft--one of mine and one of yours."

Serafima sighed again. "So, detention? Points? Why do I care again?"

"Oh, Sera, Sera, Sera. If our rolls were reversed, you'd be advising me to expel the student, and for good reason. The girl is the most natural flyer I've ever seen--completely comfortable on a broom. She caught a ball--exactly the size of a snitch!--after a fifty-foot dive--on a school broom!--and landed without a scratch. I may be a noble fool for telling you this, but you'd be every kind of fool there is if you didn't make an exception to the first year ban on brooms and put her on your House team immediately."

Serafima looked up for the first time since Melvin entered her office. "Who is it?"

"Why don't I just call her in? Oh, I can't wait to see the look on your face."

But Serafima had already guessed, of course. How could the daughter of Lily Potter be anything but a natural on a broom?

Melvin opened the door with a flourish. "Miss Evans? Come in, please." 

Miss Evans walked into Serafima's office with the posture of someone whose puppy just died. 

Melvin said, "Now I've just told Professor Snape what I saw, and I'll leave you to explain to her your side of the story. Your punishment is up to her, of course." Over the girl's head, Melvin winked at Serafima and excused himself from the room.

Serafima stared at Daisy Evans for a long moment, but the girl didn't look up. Summoning a sense of outrage was harder than she thought it would be a few moments ago, but summon it she did. 

"Well?" Serafima hissed. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I...erm...I flew off when Sir Hooch told us to stay put."

"And you just thought you were good enough on a broom that you didn't need to follow his instructions?"

"No! I mean, I've never even been on a broom before."

This gave Serafima pause. Had Melvin really been impressed by the girl's flying, on the girl's first attempt ever?

And then, if Daisy Evans had never been on a broom before, what on earth had possessed her to try it with no adults around? The rage which Serafima had been trying so hard to summon suddenly became quite accessible. 

"What were you THINKING?" she yelled. "Were you so influenced by the presence of the Gryffindors that your reason fled you altogether?"

Miss Evans took a step back. "I just..."

"Oh, do tell," Serafima said acidly. "You just what?"

"Felina Malfoy was acting like my cousin! She was trying to get everyone against Nancy, and Nancy hadn't DONE anything, she'd just fallen and hurt herself, and then Felina flew off and I...I don't want Hogwarts to be like Privet Drive, that's all. And I could do something about it, so I did!" Daisy darted a glace at Serafima, who tried to school her expression into something unreadable. 

"Hmph," Serafima finally said. "You've convinced me not to take points. You should consider that a victory."

"Yes, ma'am."

"However, I am assigning detention. Nine o'clock, Saturday morning, in my office. Do not be late."

:-:-:-:-:-:

For the girl's detention, Serafima marched Miss Evans down to the broom shed by the Quidditch pitch and told her to pick out the broom that felt the best. Bewildered, Miss Evans picked out a rather decent-looking Comet One Eighty, which must have been one of the better brooms on offer. Once the girl had her broom in hand, she looked at Serafima in confusion.

Serafima cleared her throat. "As punishment for your reckless stunt the other day, you will be trying out for the Slytherin Quidditch team. I realize that you probably don't know the first thing about Quidditch, but all you need to know today is that Marcy Flint is the captain, and you should do everything she tells you to do." 

Serafima ushered the girl out onto the pitch, then took a seat in the stands. 

And was amazed. Melvin had not been exaggerating; the girl flew exceptionally well. Lily had, of course, been a Chaser for Gryffindor, and it was nice to see that the Potter genes were going to benefit Slytherin House now. 

Serafima couldn't help but smile.


	4. The Second-hand Cleansweep Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note to several reviewers:
> 
> Yeah, so...I'm...ssssslllllllloooooooowwwwwww...with...updates. And no one's ever successfully rewritten the entire series! Do you think I'll be the first to manage it? (Unlikely) Do I have dreams of doing it anyway? (Oh, sure) Do I have ideas for where the story's going? (...Some) When will my next update be? (…?) And there was one very young soul (I'm guessing) who asked me about the Bechdel test. Google, my friend. Google. In short, though, the Bechdel test is a simple test to see if depictions of women in the media demonstrate any sort of agency outside the influence of men. It's an extremely low bar to get over, and it's stunning how many movies, books, TV shows, fanfics, etc, fail the test. It's a very, very low bar. The bar is actually just lying on the ground. (A couple of my HP fics pass, barely. A couple of them don't.) This fic, I'm proud to say, passes the Bechdel test WITH FLYING COLORS. 
> 
> This fic also brings to mind a fairly recent study I heard about on NPR, about how--when there's mixed groups of people, both men and women in the group will say that it's about a 50-50 split between men and women when the percentage is as low as, like, 10% female. (There's the same problem with minorities.) This causes you to think that the world of Harry Potter, for example, is roughly 50% female. But when I go and flip the genders, it suddenly feels that Harry Potter is populated with approximately 95% females. And that is because the original world of Harry Potter is approximately 95% male. That's right, there are two hundred characters in Harry Potter, and only ten of them are chicks. And one of them is the Fat Lady, so go suck on that for a while. And JK Rowling is neither backwards nor misogynistic. She's just a human in Western Civilization. 
> 
> This makes me sound bitter; I'm not. But once you've been made aware of these things, you can't un-notice them. If this phenomenon has never been pointed out to you, YOU'RE WELCOME. Carry on. Go enjoy your Star Wars/Star Trek/But my fandom has strong female characters, seriously!/whatever. But once you notice that Princess Leia is literally the only woman standing in the war room, it feels significantly less like a feminist achievement. Oh, sure, she's _General Organa_ , now. How _progressive_ \--I can certainly see how putting another woman in the scene would just be redundant.
> 
> (Okay, maybe I'm a teensy bit bitter. But I would argue that the point still stands.)
> 
> OH, BY THE WAY, ACTUAL CHAPTER NOTES AHEAD: This chapter is 100% solid fluff. How can fluff be solid? Oh, you just wait. I've managed it.

Immediately after the Quidditch tryouts, Serafima went to Dumbledore's office to see how far she could bend the ban on first-years bringing their own brooms to school. She dreaded the conversation, but it must be done. Even as she ascended the spiral staircase, she didn't know how to approach the topic with the headmistress. All of Serafima's cunning failed her when dealing with the grandmotherly woman.

When Ariana Dumbledore bade her to enter, Serafima decided on the simple truth. She sat down in the armchair in front of Dumbledore's desk and said without preamble, "Daisy Evans just made the Slytherin Quidditch team while flying on a school broom."

Dumbledore blinked and smiled. "Did she really? Which position?"

"Seeker."

"On a school broom. My, my, that is something."

"It is indeed. Now my concern is the ban on first-year brooms."

Ariana chuckled. "Indeed."

"Naturally, if Miss Evans can outfly even Teresa Higgs--who you'll remember had some spectacular catches last year, and did her trials this year on a new Comet Two-Sixty--then Miss Evans should be able to beat anybody on a school broom. However, forcing a house player to use such an inferior piece of equipment does appear to put Slytherin at a disadvantage."

"And we'd naturally like to avoid the appearance of partiality, in either direction."

"Allowing a first-year her own broom when she makes her house team is not partiality," Serafima argued. "When was the last time a first-year made a house team?"

Ariana turned around to look at the portraits behind her. Luisa Collingsworth, headmistress from 1832 to 1844, cleared her throat. "During my time, a first-year Gryffindor boy made his house team. I waived the ban for him."

The other portraits nodded. 

"Well, there we have it," Dumbledore said. "The wisdom of the ages. Miss Evans shall be allowed her own broom." 

"Thank you, Headmistress," Serafima said. She started to stand, but Dumbledore stopped her.

"Serafima, one more thing before you leave, if you will."

Serafima sat back down. 

"I have some concerns about Quirina. I would like for you to keep an eye on her."

Serafima frowned deeply. She'd been doing her best to avoid the other woman, ostensibly because of the odor that hung around her, but really because the ridiculous woman made her unaccountably nervous. Serafima just felt deeply uncomfortable in Quirina Quirrel's presence. 

But why would the headmistress feel the same way? And why single out Serafima for the task? And what did Dumbledore expect Serafima to watch for? To make sure the woman didn't grow another head? 

Ordinarily, Serafima would bury these questions, but with Dumbledore, the direct path was best. So she asked, "Do you distrust her, Dumbledore?"

The headmistress eyed Serafima calmly. "Do you?"

"Of course I do, but I never imagined you would feel the same way."

"Perhaps I do not distrust her. Perhaps I am merely worried that Hogwarts has not had a Defense teacher who lasted more than three terms in a good long while."

"The story was always that the Dark Lady put a curse on the post."

"That was the story, yes."

Serafima shifted uncomfortably. "But now that Daisy Evans has re-entered the Magical world..."

Dumbledore nodded. "You understand me, Serafima. Lady Voldemort has acted rashly before, where Daisy Evans was concerned."

Oh, there were times when Serafima hated Dumbledore with every fiber of her being. The woman could oh-so-casually remind Serafima that the Dark Lady had murdered James Evans--and tried to murder his daughter--based only on a part of a prophecy given by a fraudulent man that Serafima happened to overhear and chose to report to her mistress. Yes, the Dark Lady had acted rashly, but the same could be said for Serafima--as Dumbledore seemed so keen to remind her. Serafima seethed, but spoke in a level voice. "I shall continue to pay my debt to you, Headmistress. If you wish me to watch over Quirrel, then of course I shall do so."

"Very good. Thank you, Serafima."

:-:-:-:-:-:

The fact that Felina Malfoy helped Daisy Evans earn a spot on the Slytherin Quidditch team was not lost on either one of the girls. The rest of the school didn't know the details; they just knew that Daisy had shown up to the tryouts, and when Marcy Flint asked her which position she was trying for, Daisy looked at her like a gnome just thrown from the garden. Marcy mumbled something about "Muggle-raised," which made Daisy feel bad, but then Marcy said, "Well, what are you waiting for? Get on that broom and show me what you've got." Daisy did, and not knowing what else to do, she had flown around the pitch a few times, zig-zagging in between the goal-posts for fun. Then she heard Marcy laughing. Calling Daisy back to the ground, Marcy said, "You're trying out for Seeker. We'll explain the rules of Quidditch later, yeah?"

Sam and Alex Weasley, who made the team as Beaters, volunteered to explain the basics of the game to her the following day. "Slytherin has been on a winning streak," they told her. "You're joining the best team at Hogwarts."

This should have made Daisy nervous with the burden of high expectations, but instead she was bolstered by the twins' cheerful confidence. 

"And," Sam said, "Professor Snape told us that she got old Dumbledore to waive the restriction on first-year brooms for you, so you can bring your broom from home!"

Daisy's spirits sagged slightly, and Alex noticed right away. "Don't be stupid, Sam," Alex said. "Daisy was raised by Muggles--she probably doesn't have her own broom, right Daisy?"

Daisy shook her head, and Sam looked shocked. "The Muggles didn't let you have your own _broom_?"

"I'm pretty sure that if the Muggles found out I was flying on a broom, they wouldn't let me back in the house," Daisy said.

Sam and Alex looked scandalized, but Alex recovered first. "Different strokes for different folks, I guess, but still. That's _bizarre_." 

"So what kind of broom are you going to get?" Sam asked.

"How much money do you have?" Alex asked.

"Mind, if you don't have a lot of money, we happen to know of some places that sell some nice refurbished brooms," Sam said.

"Exactly. Quality Quidditch Supplies doesn't exactly cater to a wide clientele," Alex said.

"Erm," Daisy said.

Sam patted Daisy on the head. "Don't worry, love. We'll help you out. We'd never steer you wrong." 

"First, you need to write to the Muggles to see how much money they can spare for some much-needed school supplies."

"Erm," Daisy said. 

Alex continued as if Daisy hadn't said anything--which really, she hadn't, but Alex and Sam both seemed to understand what she hadn't said. "We'll assume that the money from the Muggles will be negligible."

"Trifling," Sam said.

"Insignificant," Alex said.

"Non-existent," Daisy clarified.

"Understood. Second-hand broom it is. But even for that, you need some money. Perhaps you have a sickly great-aunt?"

"A willingness to be an illegal potions mule?"

Daisy laughed, even though she wasn't entirely sure the twins were joking. "My parents did leave me some money, but it has to last the whole time I'm at Hogwarts."

The twins nodded and waited, but Daisy didn't know what for. "What?" she finally asked. 

"We're just waiting on a galleon amount."

"I...I don't know, really. And even if I did, I'm still not completely sure about Magical money. How much does a used broom cost, anyway?"

"Oh, love," Sam said. "We can probably get you a deep discount, anyway."

"You are Daisy Evans, after all," Alex agreed.

"That should be good for at least forty galleons."

The twins actually drafted a letter to Broom Again, a second-hand Quidditch shop in Hogsmeade, and they made Daisy copy it in her own handwriting.

To whom it may concern,

My name is Daisy Evans

("Hold on a moment," Daisy said. "Why do I have to go introducing myself right away? Won't they read my name at the bottom?" Sam had shaken her head. "Daisy, when you're looking for a favor, it's never too early to name-drop.")

and I just made Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team. I did the tryouts on a school broom, but now that I've made the team, Professor Dumbledore has given me special permission to have my own broom, even though I'm a first-year.

("I don't need to give them my whole life story," Daisy argued. Unruffled, Alex said, "But you do need to tell them just enough.")

I'd like to buy a really nice broom, but I don't have a lot of galleons to spare. I was wondering what kind of broom I could get in the 20-galleon range. 

("Twenty galleons? Isn't that kind of a lot? I'm not sure I can spare that much." "It's barely enough for a bottom-of-the-line broom, only slightly better than the school models," Sam said. "But don't worry--it's the perfect amount for our purposes. Enough to conceivably buy a broom, but not so much that a poor orphan girl couldn't manage it if she were determined." This made Daisy pause. "I suppose they know I'm an orphan, then?" Alex laughed. "That's why you introduced yourself in the opening line, love.")

I appreciate your time in this matter. 

Sincerely,  
Daisy Evans

Daisy sent the letter off with Ludwig, the beautiful black owl she'd gotten for her birthday. Ludwig hadn't had much to do, since Daisy didn't get a lot of letters, and he seemed very happy to finally be able to deliver some post. 

Ludwig returned the very next morning with a reply from Malcolm Trudeau, the owner of Broom Again, who said that Daisy was welcome to visit the shop any time she was able. In fact, Mr Trudeau seemed very eager and mentioned several different kinds of brooms that he was "sure will meet your needs" and could fall within Daisy's budget "with some minimal allowances." Sam and Alex cheered when they read the letter over Daisy's shoulder. 

"Go talk to Snape!" Sam said. "She'll take you to Hogsmeade next weekend, for sure."

Daisy went to talk to Professor Snape at the end of breakfast, explaining the letter she'd sent and the letter she'd received. The woman didn't say much while Daisy told her story, and it made Daisy uncomfortable as Snape frowned down at her over her hooked nose. When Daisy finished, there was an uncomfortable silence before Professor Snape said, "I suppose you're going to promise me that you'll win every game for Slytherin if only I do this favor for you?"

Daisy squirmed. "Well, I've never even played Quidditch, so I don't know. But, erm, I promise I'll do my best."

And then Professor Snape said something very odd. She said it quietly, like she was talking to herself. "You really don't have much of Lily Potter in you at all, do you?"

This confused Daisy. The only Lily she knew was her mum--her parents had been James and Lily Evans--Ruby Hagrid had told her as much, when the tiny woman had found her in the cabin on the sea, and delivered her Hogwarts letter. "James and Lily Evans?" the woman had squeaked, and Daisy thought, "Those must have been my parents. My parents were named James and Lily Evans, and they named me Daisy." And then Miss Hagrid--as she insisted that Daisy call her--had looked up at Daisy (because Miss Hagrid really was quite short) and told her that she looked just like Lily, but had James's eyes. 

It had been the closest Daisy had ever felt to her parents--just learning their names, and that Daisy had something of theirs--she had her mother's looks and her father's eyes. It made her feel connected to someone--connected to a past--in a way that she'd never felt before. Ever since then, if she was feeling lonely, she'd think to herself, "James and Lily Evans," and it made her feel like maybe she belonged, even if it was only a little bit, and even if it was a long time ago. 

But Lily must not have been born Lily Evans. 

"Miss Evans?"

Professor Snape seemed to be asking her a question.

"I'm sorry ma'am?"

"I said I can take you to Hogsmeade this coming weekend."

"Oh."

"Does that not work with your busy social calendar?" Snape bit out.

"Oh, no, that's fine, thank you," Daisy said, and shook herself. "I was just wondering if Lily Potter was my mum."

Snape's face twisted--even more than usual--but then she managed to smooth her eyes and mouth back out. Her nose, unfortunately, remained hooked. "Saturday morning, after breakfast. Do not be late," the woman finally said, and stood and left the Great Hall.

Daisy was not so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she didn't notice that Professor Snape had acted very oddly. 

:-:-:-:-:-:

During that week, Daisy finally was able to transfigure a matchstick into a needle. She was happy to be thoroughly average in her attempts. Beth Zabini got hers to work about five minutes before her, and David Greengrass did it about five minutes after her. They were very pleased with themselves, but none more so than Professor McGonagall. "Good, good!" he said. "Now that you have completed your first true transfiguration, you'll be able to work on more complicated changes!" Then he assigned them an essay on Borick's theory on transfiguring big objects into small objects.

In Herbology, Professor Sprout paired them up and had them planting seeds and putting different fertilizers on them to see which was best. It was a great deal of fun to dig around in the dirt, but unfortunately, Daisy was paired with Herman Granger, who could be a crushing boor. "Phyllida Spore says very clearly that almost all plants do better with dragon dung fertilizer than anything else," the boy said. "I don't know why we're doing this experiment if we already know what it's going to show."

"Well, maybe the seeds we're planting are the exception," Daisy said, trying to keep her voice level. It helped that she didn't look at Herman, instead keeping her eyes on the soil as she gently patted it down. She had quite a bit of dirt under her fingernails. 

"Hmph," Herman said, and Daisy ignored him and started to meticulously clean her fingernails. 

In Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Quirrel said that a Ravenclaw had asked her if hexes or jinxes required a more malevolent intent. (Professor Quirrel didn't say who the Ravenclaw was, but Daisy would bet anything that it was Herman Granger.) "This q-q-question isn't even a g-g-good one," Professor Quirrel said, "s-s-s-since c-c-curses require the m-m-most m-m-m-malevolent intent." Daisy sighed and wrote this in her notes. 

Potions was Daisy's favorite class because Ronnie was in it. Sometimes, Ronnie sat with Daisy and Beth Zabini and David Greengrass, and other times Daisy sat with Ronnie and Levar Brown and Pradeep Patil, two Gryffindor boys. Daisy and Ronnie made a habit of pairing together, and they'd gotten better at making potions since their first lackluster attempts. This week, they made a very good clarifying solution, and even Professor Snape didn't have anything bad to say about it. 

Their teacher's perfect indifference towards their good work was too much for Felina Malfoy, who had partnered with Alicia Crabbe, as usual, and had again produced an exceptional potion, if looks were anything to go by. As Professor Snape barely paused when looking into Daisy and Ronnie's cauldron, Felina snorted from across the room. "I suppose that Daisy Evans will be graded on a curve, now that she's Slytherin's new Quidditch star," she said.

"Are you accusing me of favoritism?" Professor Snape asked silkily, and continued speaking before Felina or anyone else could respond. "Because if you think it would help your grade, perhaps the rest of you should do your best to endear yourselves to me. I assure you, I would not mind." Some of the Slytherins giggled nervously, and Daisy didn't dare look up. Professor Snape continued. "I'm not saying that such behavior will raise your grade, but know this with certainty: none of you wants to make an enemy of me."

Daisy had thought that Professor Snape sounded threatening when she called out the roll, but she had been wrong. When Professor Snape actually made a threat, everyone who heard it felt the need to make sure all their limbs were still attached and working properly. 

Even Felina Malfoy shut her mouth and looked down at her hands in her lap, as she curled and uncurled her fingers. Daisy thought she was probably just making sure she still could. 

:-:-:-:-:-:

Serafima spent all week dreading Saturday morning. Between classes and Head-of-House duties and detentions, she rarely got any time to herself, but taking Daisy Evans into Hogsmeade to go broom shopping was surely the worst thing she'd ever have to do. 

The girl hadn't even known her own mother's name. 

Serafima tried to focus on her dread about Saturday's errand--because if she let the dread slip from her mind, she found herself remembering James's worthless brother, Vernon. Vernon Evans was a wiry, mean boy--hateful to James and hateful to Serafima. Vernon was not violent, really, but he had been capable of a coldness that even Serafima had a hard time understanding, and she had grown up with her _parents_. 

With Vernon as her only connection to James, Daisy Evans possibly didn't even know her own father's name, let alone her mother's. It was possible that _Vernon_ had never known Lily's name. 

Not that Lily Potter was worth knowing, of course. But she _was_ Miss Evans's mother.

Shopping for brooms would surely be wretched. 

But Saturday morning came, as Saturday mornings tend to do, and after breakfast, Miss Evans walked up to the head table and stood in front of Serafima. The girl looked terribly uncomfortable, which helped to settle Serafima slightly. 

"What's wrong?" Serafima demanded.

"I...I just realized that I don't have any money with me, so even if I find a broom I like, I can't buy it right away."

Oh, for the love of Merlin. Serafima knew the proprietor of Broom Again personally, and Malcolm Trudeau would see this whole situation as a priceless opportunity. Daisy Evans was going to walk out of his store today with any broom she wanted, and she wouldn't pay a knut for it. And it would be the best business decision Trudeau could make. 

But evidently Miss Evans hadn't added the ginkgo leaves to the fish oil yet. Well, it would be best if she acted like she was going to pay, anyway. "Don't let Mr Trudeau know that," Serafima advised. "Act like you have money in your pocket, right up until the end."

"Yes, ma'am."

The two walked into Hogsmeade under the most uncomfortable silence imaginable. Serafima kept remembering Vernon Evans against her will. _What was the name of that fat woman he'd married?_ Serafima had met her once; she was horrible. She had a flower name, too--both James and Vernon had married awful women with flower names--it was the one thing the brothers ever had in common. Had her name been Rose? No, Begonia. Or Peony. 

When they finally arrived at Broom Again, Malcolm Trudeau was delighted to see them, and immediately showed Miss Evans some brooms he'd set aside as soon as he'd got her letter. The first one he pulled out was a Comet Two Sixty, which raised Serafima's eyebrows. It was suspicious for such a new broom to be in a second-hand shop.

When Miss Evans held the broom in her hand, she frowned. "I, er, I don't think I like this one much," she said.

"But it's the newest model--just came out in July! Don't you want to fly it?"

Miss Evans shifted on her feet. "Not really. It feels worse than most of the school brooms." Then she looked at Malcolm. "Sorry," she added belatedly.

But Malcolm was smiling delightedly. "Very good, so you're not just here for a fancy-looking broom with an expensive name," he said. 

"No," she said. "I just wanted a good broom for flying."

Malcolm turned to Serafima. "I thought she may have made the team on her name alone, but she must have some talent. That Comet Two Sixty has some defective charms that I haven't quite been able to fix." He turned back to Miss Evans. "I'm delighted that you seem to have a feel for brooms. Let's see what I can get for you." 

He brought out a polished but slightly battered Shooting Star, which made Miss Evans smile. Malcolm ushered the girl to a small field out back where she could try out the broom, then he pulled out a camera and took a few pictures. 

Serafima cleared her throat, and he looked back at her, abashed. "Just a few pictures--I'm sure Daisy won't mind."

"And I'm sure you know that displaying pictures of a minor is illegal without the consent of a parent or guardian."

"Oh, Serafima, you know her guardians are Muggles! That's not fair!"

Serafima looked at him pointedly. "The girl is in my House. As her Head, I can act _in loco parentis_."

"Would you?"

"I will have to approve of any pictures you choose to display or use in advertisements. And I will be able to immediately remove anything I find objectionable."

"Oh, absolutely," Malcolm said, and turned his attention back to Miss Evans. He snapped a few more pictures of her, as she laughed delightedly and did loop-the-loops. She landed a few moments later, and he asked her, "So, is this the broom you want?"

"Well, it is the best broom I've ever flown," she said, and Malcolm scrambled to write that sentence down. "But I've only flown on two brooms before, and they were both school brooms." Malcolm's face fell slightly. Miss Evans continued, "I mean, I'd just like to try some more brooms before I decide, is all."

She tried six more before she decided on a Cleansweep Three. "I don't even have to think about it--it just goes where I want it to!" she gushed, and Malcolm wrote that sentence down, too.

In the end, Malcolm gave the girl the broom free of charge (as she blushed furiously and offered a token payment repeatedly), in exchange for the ability to display some photographs of Daisy Evans riding the broom and a quote of Daisy Evans gushing about Broom Again broomsticks. "And possibly some adverts," he mumbled, to which Serafima replied firmly, "We'll see." 

Miss Evans and Malcolm Trudeau both left happy. But Serafima still couldn't shake her memories of Vernon Evans.


	5. Halloween

Over the next few weeks, life at Hogwarts settled into a routine. Daisy and Ronnie usually sat at each other's tables for meals, but sometimes they each sat at their own tables. Daisy had Quidditch practice three nights a week, but she spent her other evenings with Ronnie. It took them a while to work out where to meet--they met once in the library, but it was dull because they couldn't talk above a whisper. Then they tried to meet in an empty classroom on the second floor, but they both found it creepy. "Why don't we just go back to the Gryffindor common room?" Ronnie asked. "I don't think it's against the rules."

So there they went, although the portrait guarding the Gryffindor common room squinted his eyes at Daisy when Ronnie gave him the password.

"I don't think _she's_ one of mine," the Fat Gentleman said, crossing his arms. 

"No, but she's one of mine," Ronnie said blithely, and Daisy felt warm all over. The Fat Gentleman didn't argue further, and swung forward to reveal the tunnel to the common room. The girls spent a very pleasant evening there, playing gobstones with Nancy Longbottom and Deena Thomas. Daisy didn't see Felina Malfoy once.

The next evening, Daisy took Ronnie to the Slytherin common room. The empty stone wall outside the common room was not as judgmental as the Fat Gentleman had been, but there was a slight pause after Daisy gave the password (so slight that Daisy might have imagined it) before the hidden door slid open. The girls took this as tacit approval. That evening, Ronnie taught Daisy how to play chess, but Daisy kept losing even with Beth Zabini's help. "Slytherins should never lose a game of chess to a Gryffindor," Beth complained, but Ronnie just laughed. "We'll get better," Daisy said, even though she didn't believe it. The twins noticed what they were doing and came over. 

"If you manage to beat her," Sam said, "do please invite us to watch. She's got a big head about this game."

"Yes, everyone needs a talent," Alex said. "Ronnie's is chess. It's not the quickest way to earn a galleon, but it is great for parties."

:-:-:-:-:-:

It seemed like no time at all had passed, but it was already Halloween. When Daisy walked into the Great Hall for the feast, Ronnie came over to her side almost immediately. Without even saying hello, Ronnie said, "I have to tell you what happened in Charms class with Herman Granger."

Daisy groaned. Ronnie had the same problems with the overbearing boy as everyone else, but Ronnie found it impossible to ignore him like Daisy did.

Ronnie grabbed Daisy's arm and practically dragged her to the nearest table, which was Hufflepuff. They sat down next to each other, and Ronnie started talking right away about how Herman was insufferable as he always was--and Herman wasn't even _paired_ with Ronnie, but still tried to tell her what to do ("'Win-GAAAAAR-dyum Levi-OH-sah,'" Ronnie said, slightly nasally and with eyebrows pulled high, in an unfortunately accurate imitation of the tall skinny boy), and how Ronnie was so incensed that she told Herman off ("I told him he may be ace at spells, but he was pants at people, and if he'd shut his fat mouth every once in a while, people might like him more"), and the whole class heard it ("I wasn't exactly sitting close to Herman, so we weren't whispering this conversation") and most of them laughed cruelly at Herman, and Herman sat down behind his large pile of books and didn't talk to anyone for the rest of the class period. 

"I feel kind of bad," Ronnie said. "I meant what I said, but..."

"But until you hurt his feelings, you didn't know he had feelings to hurt?" Daisy guessed.

"That's it," Ronnie said. "He's always...so _weird_ , you know?"

"Yeah."

"Besides, Felina Malfoy came up to me after class and said that Herman had it coming."

"Oh," Daisy said.

"Yeah," Ronnie said. "So that made me feel even worse. I've been trying so hard to be nice to _her_ that I forgot that I have to be nice to other people, too."

"Well, you can either apologize to Herman Granger, or else suffer Felina Malfoy's pleasure."

Ronnie frowned and sighed deeply. "I know that. It's just...what do I say?"

A Hufflepuff boy sitting across the table from them cleared his throat, and Daisy and Ronnie looked over at him. 

"Excuse me," he said. "What if you just said, 'I'm sorry'?"

There was an awkward pause, then Ronnie blurted, "Who are you?"

"Henry Abbot," the boy said, and didn't offer anything more.

"Ronnie Weasley," Ronnie said, after a beat.

Daisy and Ronnie excused themselves from the Hufflepuff table, and went over to the Ravenclaw table but couldn't find Herman. Pankaj Patil, Pradeep Patil's twin brother (Pradeep was in Gryffindor with Ronnie, but Pankaj was in Ravenclaw), saw them and sighed as if he knew who they were looking for. "I know Herman can be bossy," Pankaj started to say, but Ronnie interrupted him.

"I know, I know. I shouldn't have said it."

Pankaj frowned. "No, I just want to let you know that not all Ravenclaws are like that. Overbearing, I mean. Some of us do have social skills, you know."

Ronnie frowned back, and Daisy felt an uncomfortable flip in her stomach. "Actually," Ronnie said, "I'm looking for Herman to apologize to him."

"Oh. Well, then, he's hidden himself in the library--I'm sure you can still find him there."

Daisy and Ronnie looked at each other. "Should we go?" Daisy asked. 

"Maybe at the end of the feast..." Ronnie said uncertainly. She looked at the table and said, "We _should_ go now, but we'll be better at apologizing if we're not hungry." 

"Yeah," Daisy agreed. "We could take food for us and Herman. Maybe it'll be easier for him, too, if he's not hungry."

They took some rolls and wrapped up a chicken leg, and put an apple and some grapes in their pockets, and went off to the library before the feast had even really started. 

:-:-:-:-:-:

Serafima noticed the two girls stuff their pockets full of rolls and apples, and sighed when they left the Hall together. Inter-House friendships were not discouraged, but close friendships between students from different Houses was odd. But somehow Miss Evans and Miss Weasley made it seem more natural than Serafima had ever managed with James. Perhaps because of all the teasing she and James had endured from their peers ("Is that your _boyfriend?_ He's rather too good-looking for you, isn't he? You're beneath him even if he is a Mudblood" directed towards Serafima from her housemates, and later, "I hope she's at least giving it to you, mate, otherwise you're wasting your time" directed at James from his own.) Or perhaps Evans and Weasley were too young yet to endure sexual innuendos. Or perhaps they never would, as they were both girls. 

Serafima moved to follow the girls out of the Great Hall, but was stopped by Philomena Flitwick. The willowy head of Ravenclaw House put an hand on Serafima's arm and said, "I suspect they're off to tend to one of mine--the fact that they're taking food is a good sign. Let them be." 

"What's this about?" Serafima asked.

Philomena sighed. "You know Herman Granger?"

Serafima groaned. The boy was certainly intelligent, but didn't know when to keep silent, and tended to stay after class to ask Serafima questions, while standing entirely too close. 

"I see he's already made an impression on you," Philomena said. "Granger and Miss Weasley had a small altercation in my classroom this morning. I don't know what it was about, but by the time the dust had settled, Granger was hiding behind his books and was silent for the rest of class, Miss Weasley looked abashed, and the other students seemed amused. And you'll notice that Granger is not in attendance this evening."

Serafima hadn't noticed. "So you think that letting Evans and Weasley roam the halls unattended is wise?"

"I don't think they'll be burning down the school tonight, if that's what you're asking. Miss Weasley can be impulsive, but Miss Evans is a quiet, thoughtful girl. I think their friendship is good for both of them. If they can work on Granger, perhaps it will benefit all of us."

So, against her better judgment, Serafima let it pass. 

She regretted this later, when the feast was almost over and Quirina Quirrel ran into the hall, yelling about trolls. 

:-:-:-:-:-:

Daisy and Ronnie did indeed find Herman in the otherwise empty library. The boy sat at a table with his back to the door, hunched up over a book.

Not wanting to startle the boy, Daisy said, "Hi Herman, it's us."

Herman whipped around and glared at them. "Shhhhh!" he whispered urgently. "It's a library."

Ronnie and Daisy shared a glace. "But it's empty," Ronnie said, not whispering.

Daisy thought this was a small enough thing, so she elbowed Ronnie and whispered to Herman, "If it makes you feel better, we can whisper."

Herman nodded and turned back around to his book.

Ronnie sighed gustily and sat down across from Herman. "We came--er, _I_ came--to apologize," she whispered. "I'm sorry for making fun of you in class today."

Herman kept his head down and didn't say anything. 

Ronnie looked at Daisy a bit desperately, and Daisy shrugged. Ronnie tried again, "Er, what I did was mean, and wrong, and I didn't mean to make fun of you."

There followed another awkward silence. And then Herman straightened in his chair so quickly, it made the girls jump. "It _was_ mean, and wrong, because I was _right_ and I was only trying to help," Herman hissed at Ronnie. "You were mispronouncing that spell--that's why it wouldn't _work_ for you!" Herman was somehow shouting his whispers. 

Ronnie was red in the face, and quite forgot that she was supposed to whisper. "Yes, but you--"

"We brought some food," Daisy interrupted, and pulled a roll and an apple out of her pockets. "Are you hungry?"

Herman looked scandalized. "You can't _eat_ in a _library!"_ he whispered.

Ronnie put her head down on the table, but Daisy had quite enough. She couldn't take any more stodginess. She looked directly at Herman and took a messy bite out of the apple. "You don't have to follow all of the rules all of the time, you know," Daisy said in a normal voice, around a mouthful of apple.

Herman looked back down at his book. "You could get food on the books," he whispered furiously. "And you should be in the habit of whispering in a library because it's polite and as for _you_ ," he said, looking pointedly at the top of Ronnie's messy hair, because she was still face-down on the table, "you needed to stress the 'gar' of 'wingardium' and you were saying 'wing' instead of 'win,' anyway, which was wrong, and if you listened to me, you would have got it right instead of looking like a--a--stupid bully."

Ronnie lifted her head, and opened her mouth but seemed to change her mind. Then she sighed and said, "We should have brought tea." But Herman drew in a scandalized breath and Ronnie backpedaled. "No, no," she said. "I know you shouldn't have tea in the library, please don't start. But a cup of tea would be nice--that's all I'm saying. But listen: I don't care if you're right. No one likes a know-it-all."

"But I am right!" Herman whispered.

"What Ronnie's trying to say is that being right doesn't make you pleasant," Daisy said, and deliberately took another bite of her apple. Herman scowled at her, then hunched back over his book.

"Well," Ronnie said, and then froze because in that moment, the three children heard a muffled thump. And then another. "What was that?" Ronnie breathed.

Herman looked at her with a little nod of approval. "That's the proper way to talk in a library," he whispered.

Then there was another thump, louder and closer than the last one. And then a horrible smell wafted up to them, like a sewer was broken nearby. 

"I think we need to get out of here," Ronnie whispered, but then there was another _thump_ that was much more loud--more of a _whomp_.

"We need to hide," Daisy whispered urgently, and grabbed Ronnie and Herman and dragged them under the table just as a huge hairy foot _whomped_ down in their line of sight. 

"It's a _mountain troll_ ," Herman breathed. " _Here?"_

Ronnie slapped her hand across Herman's mouth, and the boy was so shocked that he didn't react. Unfortunately, the mountain troll noticed something, because they could hear it sniffing, and saw its feet shuffle around a little circle as it looked for something. Then, the feet stopped moving, and the children held their breath. 

The troll lowered something, so that they could see it. At first it looked like a knee, or an elbow, but the angle was odd. It took a moment for Daisy to figure out that it was a giant club, knobbly and thick. And then, slowly, ominously, the troll's head lowered down to look under the table. When Daisy could see one of the troll's eyes, it blinked. 

The children screamed and the troll roared. The children ran for the stacks of books just as the troll knocked the table aside with its club. They ran until they were at the back wall of the library, a solid stone wall without any windows. Daisy looked around for any way out, and noticed that she was holding Ronnie's hand, and Ronnie was holding Herman's hand. 

"What should we do?" whispered Herman.

"The troll is blocking the only door," whispered Daisy.

"We'll have to fight our way out," said Ronnie.

Herman looked at Ronnie as if she was mental, and whispered, "Fight our way out? Through a mountain troll?"

Daisy had to admit that Herman had a point. But then--

_WHOMP_ , came the troll, very nearby, and the children jumped. 

"Throw books at it!" Daisy and Ronnie yelled at the same time. It was a desperate plan, and probably would never work, but then Herman yelled, "You'll ruin the books!" in a scandalized voice, and Daisy suddenly liked the idea a lot more. She and Ronnie grabbed heavy books off the shelves just as the troll rounded the corner. Daisy heaved her book ( _The Complete Encyclopedia of Caribbean Water Plants_ ), but the pages flew open and it didn't quite go as far as she'd hoped. The book landed on the troll's toe, and caused the great smelly beast to look down, confused. Ronnie heaved her own book (it was facing the other way, Daisy noted, so it sailed through the air much better than her own effort), but still only hit the troll's shin. 

Daisy started to think that running away would be better, but at that moment, the troll swung its club and knocked over an entire shelf of books. And then, like dominoes, all of the shelves fell over with a deafening crash, and blocked them in. 

"Wingardium Leviosa," Herman said, and to Daisy's great surprise, an enormous atlas floated above the troll. Then Herman pulled his wand back, and the book suddenly fell and landed on the troll's head. This was much more of a direct hit than Daisy or Ronnie had scored, but the troll hardly seemed to feel it and took another step toward them.

"You need something heavier!" Ronnie shouted. "Win-GAR-dyum Levi-OH-sa!" she yelled, and the troll's own club floated into the air. The troll looked up in confusion. Then Ronnie pulled back her own wand, just like Herman had done, and the club fell, bang between the troll's eyes. 

The club clattered to the floor, and there were several moments when Daisy thought that the troll didn't even feel it. But then the troll started to fall (backwards, thank goodness), and crashed to the floor.

"CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT WORKED?!" Ronnie yelled into the silence that followed. 

Herman laughed and jumped up and down. His afro bobbed up and down with him, and Daisy giggled. "I TOLD YOU!" Herman yelled. "I TOLD YOU, YOU JUST HAD TO PRONOUNCE IT CORRECTLY!"

Ronnie looked at him, befuddled for a moment, then started laughing so hard that she collapsed to the floor. "Pronounce it...correctly," she gasped, in between her choked laughter. 

Daisy and Herman sat down on the floor and laughed with Ronnie. Then Herman looked at the ruined bookshelves and sighed. "Shame about all these books, though."

At that moment, they heard Sir Pince, the librarian. "What happened to my _books?"_ he screamed to the room in general. Then he spotted Daisy, Ronnie, and Herman. " _What have you done?"_ he roared, and even though heaps of his precious books stood between the man and the children, Daisy and Ronnie shrank back instinctively.

Herman, however, stood up and pointed at the troll. "It was the troll, Sir. We were merely defending ourselves."

Sir Pince seemed to have something to say about that, but was interrupted by Professors Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, and Flitwick. "Ah, see?" Professor Dumbledore said calmly. "There they are, safe and sound."

Ronnie stood up. "It was a troll, Professor," she said, parroting Herman. 

"It knocked over the bookshelves," Herman said. "But Ronnie knocked it out with its own club."

Daisy darted a glace at Professor Snape. The woman was looking right at Daisy, and her face was twisted into something uglier than usual. Daisy quickly looked down.

"Well, thank Merlin you lot are alright," Professor McGonagall was saying. "Can you make your way back over here?"

Herman was reluctant to step on the books, and Daisy was reluctant to get closer to Professor Snape, but Ronnie led the way fearlessly, and the other two followed. 

"We're finishing the feast in our own common rooms," Professor McGonagall said. "And I think five points to Gryffindor, for taking out a full-grown mountain troll."

"Indeed," chimed Professor Flitwick. "Five points to Ravenclaw, for the same."

Daisy looked up at Professor Snape's hands, which were clenched into fists. She looked back down.

"Ten points from Slytherin," Professor Snape ground out. "For leaving the feast early."

This was quite unfair, but Daisy could still see Professor Snape's white knuckles if she thought about it, so she didn't protest. But she heard Ronnie and Herman gasp, which made her feel better than if she'd got ten points for Slytherin, and she heard Professor Dumbledore say, "Hmm," which was odd. 

Then Professor Snape's cold hand closed on her shoulder and Daisy was led out of the library. She looked back at Herman and Ronnie, who looked quite concerned for her. She gave them a crooked smile and a little wave. 

She wasn't afraid of Professor Snape, not really. Daisy knew that when Professor Snape was angry, she was in perfect control of her face, and hands, and voice. So that meant that Professor Snape was _worried_ , which made Daisy feel oddly warm. 

When they reached the bare stretch of wall outside the Slytherin common room, Daisy looked up at the professor. "I'm okay, Professor," she said quietly. "Thank you."

Professor Snape looked startled, but tightened her grip on Daisy's shoulder. "Miss Evans?" she said, and Daisy waited. "Five points," Snape said, "to Slytherin. For taking out a mountain troll."

Daisy smiled, because she understood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you wish I'd promised quicker updates. It probably wouldn't get you quicker updates, but it would make me feel bad about not posting in forever. As it stands, I have NO REGRETS.


	6. Quidditch

Somehow, the incident in the library made Herman so much more tolerable to Daisy and Ronnie. Daisy thought that it was better just knowing that Herman was willing to throw out even his most sacred rules, if a troll was involved. Ronnie thought it was more than that--it was how Herman had acted after the adults showed up--as if destroying the library had been their only reasonable option and that he didn't regret it. 

Either way, Daisy didn't mind partnering with Herman in Herbology anymore, and Ronnie didn't mind partnering with him in Charms. Herman even sat with them for meals at the Gryffindor or Slytherin table. On Thursday, when they all met each other outside the Great Hall for lunch, Daisy offered to sit at the Ravenclaw table. 

"Oh...oh, no," Herman stammered. "You--you don't have to do that." He gave a nervous laugh.

Daisy and Ronnie looked at each other. Ronnie said, "Well, you sit at our tables, so it's only fair, really." 

"Oh, but you--you have other friends in your Houses." Herman laughed nervously again. "The Ravenclaws don't like me much."

Ronnie looked enraged, and grabbed Herman's wrist and marched into the Great Hall, dragging the reluctant boy behind her. Daisy sighed, and took a moment to collect herself. Ronnie tended to do the right thing impetuously, but Daisy was getting used to it. She knew that Ronnie was going to ruffle some feathers, though. Daisy snickered. The lion was going to ruffle the ravens' feathers, and it was up to the snake to smooth things over. She plastered on an easy smile and walked into the Great Hall, where Ronnie sat indignantly at the Ravenclaw table next to an embarrassed Herman, silently daring any of the Ravenclaws to raise an objection. 

Daisy sat down carelessly across from them. "Have either of you two got any ideas for McGonagall's essay?" she said easily. "I understand Flibb's method of switching, but I can't get my head around Kirk's."

Herman looked at Daisy gratefully, and launched into a detailed lecture comparing and contrasting the two methods. By the end of it, Ronnie looked bored, but Pankaj Patil, who had been listening, said, "I still don't understand why we have to learn two different ways of doing the exact same thing. Seems a waste of time to me."

"Oh," Herman said. "But if the objects you want to switch are roughly the same size and density, Kirk's method is actually much easier, because if you use Flibb's method, it's harder to...disentangle them at the last step, really."

Pankaj's mouth opened slightly and he looked away. "Ooooooh," he said, in a small voice, and Herman looked triumphant. Daisy smiled. 

:-:-:-:-:-:

Slytherin's last team practice before their first Quidditch match was Thursday night. Marcy Flint did an odd thing, though, once they were all in the changing room. She locked the door and threw up a privacy spell. 

"Ladies," she said. "We play against Gryffindor on Saturday, our first match of the season. We've worked hard on skills, technique, and plays, but as most of you know, skills and technique are not our only strategy." Marcy looked hard at each of them, then sighed when she looked at Daisy. Daisy shifted uncomfortably. 

Marcy continued, "If any of you has any objections to our traditional team strategies, please, let's just talk about it now."

There was an uncomfortable silence, and Daisy bit her lips. Whatever this was, she had a feeling it was about her. 

Finally, Sam Weasley spoke up and confirmed Daisy's fears. "Daisy Evans is _eleven. years. old._ "

Suspecting it was one thing, but hearing it spoken out loud so baldly stunned Daisy. Worse, the other girls in the room seemed to take Sam's comment as permission to talk. Alex said, "Oh my god, I've been having nightmares about _Dad_ coming to the match." 

Jestine Dalham, one of the Chasers, groaned. "And my _grandmother_ has never missed a match yet."

"She's _Daisy Fucking Evans_. Never mind your relatives, what would the _school_ think?" asked Carlotta Hansford, another Chaser.

Marcy seemed to let out a sigh of relief. "Okay, so we're all on the same page here?"

" _Yes_ ," the other girls chorused. 

"What?" Daisy finally asked.

Marcy again looked around the room, then said to Daisy, "Listen, Daisy, you may have noticed that the Slytherin Quidditch team runs high to girls. We don't keep boys out on purpose, it's just that they'd have to be damn good to compete the way we compete. We play the game to the best of our ability, and that just so happens to include..." she waved her hands. Daisy tilted her head in question.

Sam groaned. " _Eleven years old_ ," she repeated.

"Just spit it out," Alex said. "We dress slutty to distract the boys on the other teams."

"Not just the boys," Jestine said. "We have this down to an art form. When we're on our game--girl, boy, gay, straight--it doesn't matter. Everyone's gender preference is the Slytherin Quidditch team."

"We are magnificent," Carlotta agreed. 

Marcy said, "But I think we're all uncomfortable playing on the sex appeal of an eleven-year-old girl." 

The room got quiet. Daisy felt that now was the time to speak up--at least if they weren't going to treat her like a little kid. Eleven wasn't _that_ young, after all. "How uncomfortable?" she ventured. "Uncomfortable, like, we-are-definitely-not-going-there, or uncomfortable, like, we're-going-there-because-we-know-it-will-work-on-you-sick-fucks?"

The whole team choked on their laughter. Marcy said, "That would make it official: we'd all end up in hell."

There was a long pause before Alex spoke up again. "But we'd be reigning Quidditch champions."

"...in _hell_ ," Sam said.

"This is stupid," Jestine said. "There's more than one way to play up being a girl. It's not all sex appeal."

"Protective instincts," Carlotta said. 

" _Exactly_ ," Jestine said.

Sam cheered. "Daisy, how would you feel about playing Quidditch dressed up as a little girl?"

Daisy frowned. "You mean, like a stupid, baby girl who doesn't know which way to point her broom?"

"Yes," Jestine said. "Exactly like that innocent, sweet girl."

Well, Daisy had to admit that there was a _point_ to it, at least.

She didn't have time to be offended or even bewildered before the other girls made her stand on the bench and started to circle her, patting her hair and asking her very odd questions. 

She was asked about her wardrobe: "What's the girliest skirt you own? Does it have pleats?" (Daisy didn't own a skirt at all--which caused a minor team crisis.) "Do you have any maryjanes, you know, the kind of shoes with buckles?" (Daisy only had trainers, which caused a major team crisis.) And about her knickers: "Do you own wholesome knickers? I'm talking, white cotton." (Daisy did.) "How do you feel about strangers maybe possibly getting a glimpse of your wholesome, white, cotton knickers?" ("I don't think I like that idea," Daisy said, and Sam cheered her for it. "I wouldn't want to flash my knickers until I was at least thirteen years old, anyway," Sam said. "And certainly not if they were white cotton.") 

Daisy never had more fun--all of the older girls doting on her and fawning over her in a way that she'd never experienced. She felt warmed and embarrassed in turns. 

In the end, Daisy wore an old miniskirt of Jestine's (which just reached the top of Daisy's knees); old maryjanes that belonged to Marcy's younger sister but were two sizes too big for Daisy, so the team had stuffed the toes with socks and used sticking charms to keep them on Daisy's feet; white knee socks which Alex had in her bag; a simple white blouse--Daisy's only contribution to the ensemble--and a green headband. Underneath her skirt, she wore a pair of black Muggle bike shorts, which she didn't mind the whole school seeing if her skirt flew up. She didn't even know where the bike shorts came from. Over the whole thing she wore the emerald green Slytherin team robes, completely open and only reaching her calves. 

The team stepped back from their creation. "You are the picture of innocence," Alex said.

"Innocent as a rose," Jestine said.

"Innocent as a _Daisy_ ," Marcy said. "If you grow tits any time soon, we're going to have to tape them down. It would mess with the look."

Daisy blushed but giggled anyway.

"Honestly, it's such a good look, I'm starting to think we need a new strategy," Carlotta said.

"What do you mean?" Alex asked.

"I mean, what if we all looked like that? Innocent as a daisy, or whatever. Who would dare hit a bludger at _anyone_ if they looked like _that?"_

"Girls," Alex said. "Boys might be fooled if Marcy showed up to the match in maryjanes and kneesocks, but the girls would want to punch her in the face."

Marcy laughed, and Carlotta sighed. "You're right. It was just a thought."

Then the rest of the team tried on their game-day outfits, which took much less time as their looks were evidently more traditional for the Slytherin Quidditch team. It seemed to Daisy that they emerged from a cloud of powder like indomitable goddesses. Their make-up, their hair, their fingernails,--their _legs_ were somehow shiny. Their chest sizes defied logic, but Daisy did finally understand why they all had so many spare socks with them. Every time they blinked, the corners of their eyes glittered. Their Quidditch robes, which only reached down to their mid-thighs, were clasped together in a single spot just underneath their impressive breasts.

"So," Marcy said. "Let's get a look at us."

The girls all gathered together to look at themselves in the mirror. Daisy felt horribly like the ugly duckling, surrounded by the older, more sophisticated, and stunning girls. It didn't help that all the other girls were all looking at her. 

Marcy tore her eyes away from Daisy to address the other girls. "Ladies, let me remind you that there's a pretty big difference between owning your sexuality and feeling like you have to dress slutty for the team. The first one is empowerment, the second one is coercion. If you don't feel empowered right now--if you feel coerced at all--let me know now--or later, in private."

"I just can't stop looking at you, Daisy," Carlotta said. "I just want to take you home and tuck you in and read you bedtime stories."

Daisy turned bright red.

"I know," Marcy said. "I can't believe we wasted so much time teaching you to dodge bludgers. What a useless skill for you to have."

Daisy felt tears threatening and looked down.

"Oi there," Sam said. "If that bashfulness is part of your look, that's fine, but if it's not, say what's on your mind." 

She didn't know where to start. She felt too ugly, she felt too young, she felt left out. She knew it was ridiculous since the team spent most of the evening on her, but for all of that--when she looked in the mirror, she just obviously didn't fit in with the rest of them. 

She opened her mouth to try to explain all of this, but what came out instead was: "My aunt doesn't allow me to wear make-up." And then she burst into tears, because her cousin Eva was of course allowed to wear make-up, because (as Aunt Petunia said) Eva was older than Daisy. Aunt Petunia had been saying that for Daisy's whole life, and when Daisy was younger, she thought she'd have to wait four months before she could do what Eva had done. Eva was four months older than Daisy, so if Eva got new shoes now, then in four months Daisy should get new shoes. In four months she should get dance lessons. In four months, she should get a pretty new necklace.

It had taken her a lot longer than four months to figure out that she would never get these things.

"This is stupid," Sam said. "Alex, you and I should dress like little girls, too. We're the next youngest on the team, and we could pull it off."

Alex balked, and Daisy balked with her. "You can't do that," Daisy blurted.

"Why not? It would--"

"No, no," Daisy interrupted, and wiped her tears. "Look at me. If you looked like me when you hit a bludger at someone, they'd know your innocent look was a lie. But if you look like _you_ when you hit a bludger at someone, Jesus Christ, they're just happy you're paying attention to them." 

Even Sam snorted. Alex said, "She did know that, Daisy. It's just--Merlin's beard, look at you. We just want you to be happy."

Daisy smiled, even as more tears spilled out. "I know," she choked out. And then an idea seized her. "I'm only crying because I want to see how far I can take this thing." 

The girls laughed again, and Marcy said, "Daisy Evans, you fit on this team so well that I honestly don't know if you're lying or telling the truth. Ladies, we will knock 'em dead on Saturday. They'll never even know what hit them."

:-:-:-:-:-:

When the Slytherin Quidditch team stepped out on the pitch on Saturday morning, Serafima nearly laughed out loud. Until that moment, she hadn't admitted to herself how nervous she'd been that Miss Flint would cling to tradition and dress Daisy Evans like a trollop.

But Serafima had chosen her team captain well. Miss Flint continued to prove herself ruthless and intelligent--a deadly combination. 

"Th-th-th-this should b-b-b-be interesting," Professor Quirrel said, and Serafima silently cursed Dumbledore. The headmistress had always assigned the professors' seating for Quidditch matches, and Serafima always sat in the Slytherin section, of course. Usually Professor Sinestra was assigned to sit with her, but this year Dumbledore had moved Sinestra to the Hufflepuff section and placed Quirrell with the Slytherins. 

Serafima could guess why. _Keep an eye on Quirina_ , indeed. She wondered if she could do what Dumbledore asked while ignoring Quirrel completely. Probably not, but it was pure fancy anyway--sitting this close to the woman raised the hairs on the back of Serafima's neck. Serafima didn't understand it, but she knew she couldn't ignore the woman. 

She ignored the woman as best she could anyway, and tried to focus on the match. Slytherin was doing particularly well: the Misses Weasley were proving themselves to be superb Beaters; the Chasers had worked together for two years now and their experience showed; Miss Flint rarely let anyone score against her; and Miss Evans flew all around the pitch, completely unmolested by the Gryffindor Beaters.

But as Serafima watched, Miss Evans did an odd little flip on her broom, so that she was suddenly facing the opposite direction. She came unseated slightly, and Serafima knew, she _knew_ , that the girl hadn't done the flip on purpose. 

Leigh Jordan, who was commentating the match, said, "It looks like Daisy Evans can't figure out which way to point her broom!" which irritated Serafima because of course Miss Jordan would openly pick on the opposing team, and of course Melvin McGonagall would overlook the infraction, but wasn't it obvious that Miss Evans's broom was malfunctioning?

Then the broom dropped several feet and stopped abruptly, and Miss Evans hit her chin on the handle. 

Her heart in her throat, Serafima started to silently chant a protection spell on the broom. _Parce. Miserere. Parce. Miserere._

The moments stretched. Serafima didn't dare blink as the broom became more and more erratic despite all her best efforts. Miss Evans still hung on heroically, even though her mouth and chin were dripping blood and her skirt was hiked up around her waist (revealing modest black shorts, to Serafima's relief). Both teams had stopped play and tried to help the girl, but no one could get close to her--if they tried, the broom juddered away quickly. 

And just when Serafima didn't think things could get worse, she recognized the smell of burning robes. _Her_ robes. As in: she was on fire. Miss Evans forgotten, she stumbled a bit but cast a quick _Aguamenti_ on herself. By the time she looked up again, Miss Evans was nowhere in the air. She panicked and looked at the ground, only to see Miss Evans, standing on her own two feet, and clutching at her chest with both hands. Was she having a heart attack? A panic attack? What had Serafima missed? 

But then the oddest thing happened: leaving one hand on her heart, Miss Evans reached down inside her blouse...and pulled out the snitch. "I caught the snitch!" she said, sounding surprised herself. 

_Well_ , thought Serafima. _I'll be damned_. 

She left the stands immediately (noting with satisfaction that Quirina had fallen on her arse at some point--Serafima dearly hoped that she knocked the woman over when she was scrambling to put out her robes) and went to find Miss Flint. 

She found the girl celebrating with the team, but Miss Flint seemed to be expecting her, because when Serafima caught her eye, she came over immediately. 

"I didn't see anything, ma'am," Miss Flint said. "There was no one on the grounds who shouldn't have been there, and from what I could see, everyone in the stands just looked concerned or even panicked. Except you, of course--you were stony. And that new Defense teacher--whatever her name is."

"How did she look?" Serafima asked, feeling a thrill of foreboding.

Miss Flint scowled and said, "She wasn't even looking. She had her face turned away."

That struck Serafima as peculiar enough to be disturbing. To distract Miss Flint, she said, "Five points to Slytherin. For not completing Miss Evans's look with the obvious white knickers."

Miss Flint laughed. "It never crossed our minds, ma'am."

Serafima doubted that.

:-:-:-:-:-:

By the end of the Quidditch match, Ronnie was jumping out of her skin. She felt like she'd fought with everyone, starting with herself ( _Gryffindor is my TEAM, but Daisy is my FRIEND, but I can't root for SLYTHERIN, but I don't want Daisy to lose_ ), moving on to Felina Malfoy ("Shut up, Malfoy, I can cheer for Slytherin and still cheer for Gryffindor."), and now that the match was over, she was arguing with Herman.

Ronnie had insisted that Herman sit with her for the match, and it hadn't seemed like a terrible idea because even though he was Muggle-born, he knew all of the rules of Quidditch and was curious how an actual game went. Also, Herman didn't talk much when the game actually started, limiting his comments to things like, "Daisy flies quite well. I wonder why she's dressed up as a girl." (He didn't comment on the dress of the other girls on the Slytherin team, and Ronnie thought it might be possible that Herman hadn't even noticed.)

But when Daisy's broom tried to kill her, Herman somehow got the idea that Professor Snape was behind it. Ronnie had to admit that it was suspicious that Daisy's broom leveled off almost the instant Herman set Snape on fire, but she still couldn't believe that the woman would try to kill Daisy. 

"I know what I saw," Herman said stubbornly.

"But--Herman, even if Snape wanted to kill Daisy, she wouldn't do it in the middle of a Quidditch game! Not when Daisy's on her _team_. It just doesn't make sense!" 

"Maybe that's what Professor Snape is counting on," Herman said darkly.

Ronnie sighed.

"We have to warn Daisy," Herman said, and Ronnie sighed again. Since she wanted to see Daisy anyway, she followed Herman, who had already started to make his way toward the celebrating Slytherin team. 

When they reached the team, Ronnie was a little intimidated by their looks--even the twins--who Ronnie wouldn't have recognized up close, except for their voices as they crowed about Daisy's catch: "The only one of us not showing any cleavage!" Alex gasped in between laughter. 

Herman didn't seem intimidated at all. "Excuse me," he said to the team, then turned to Daisy. "Daisy, we need to talk to you."

Ronnie would have been mortified by this, because she just felt so out of place, but then she saw Daisy's hands shaking a little bit, and she really wanted to give her friend a hug just then. So when Daisy walked over to Ronnie and Herman, Ronnie pulled her in tight.

"Days, that was _really_ scary," Ronnie said. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Daisy said, but she didn't pull away from the hug for a few moments.

Herman cleared his throat, and Daisy broke the hug awkwardly. Herman didn't seem to notice. "We were especially concerned because we think we know who did it," he said. "We think it was Professor Snape." 

" _We_ don't think anything of the sort, Herman," Ronnie denied, but Daisy just looked thoughtful. 

"If Snape wanted to kill me, she'd probably pick a better time than during a Quidditch match. Since I'm on her team and all."

"That's what _I_ said!" Ronnie said.

"But it would make her look innocent, wouldn't it?" Herman persisted. "Because no one would suspect her of murdering her own player."

To Ronnie's great consternation, this explanation seemed to make sense to Daisy. Herman explained everything that happened: "Snape was looking right at you, and she looked _fierce_ , and her lips were moving. So I set her on fire and then your broom stopped behaving erratically."

Daisy choked. "On _fire?"_ she said between coughs.

Ronnie slapped Daisy on the back and said, "I wouldn't believe it myself if I hadn't seen in with my own two eyes, but it's true. Herman Granger set a teacher on fire. On purpose. To save your life, Daisy." 

Daisy cleared her throat a few times. "I'm glad we're friends now, Herman, really."

Ronnie hadn't thought of it like that. But it was just a week before that Herman had gotten angry with them for talking in the library. And now the same boy had set a teacher on fire on a hunch. 

Ronnie must have had a funny look on her face, because Herman scowled at her. "What?" he asked. 

"I'm glad we're friends, too," she said, and pulled Herman into a hug. She held on to him until he patted her back awkwardly a few times, and finally let him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This must be the worst fic to read as a WIP, ever. I wonder if there's an award for that. 
> 
> Anyway. You'll be happy to know that Murph solved some plot issues I've been struggling with, and after she solved them, I was like, "Duh, of course that's how it would work." So, now all that's left is to write it. PFFFF.


	7. Serving Time with Snape

After the match, Serafima stormed into the headmistress's office. She paced the floor in a rage as she ranted at Ariana Dumbledore. 

"So help me, Headmistress, if you knew anything about this and let the match go forward anyway--"

"I assure you, I had no foreknowledge of today's events, Serafima."

"The Girl Who Lived, fifty feet in the air, _flying on a used broom_ \--in full sight of the entire student body and who knows how many visitors and parents--"

"I'm sure you'll find a way to finagle a new broom for Daisy using today's events as a catalyst."

"That's hardly my point!"

"Still, I can't help but wonder exactly when it was that the Snitch flew down Daisy's shirt."

"Dumbledore!"

"Yes Serafima?" The old woman looked entirely too innocent. And jolly.

"Someone made an attempt on Daisy Evans's life today!"

That, at least, sobered the headmistress. But she didn't have a response, so Serafima pressed on. "You wanted me to watch over Quirina Quirrel. I confess that I was preoccupied during the match, but Miss Flint informed me that during Miss Evans's ordeal, Quirrel had her head turned away." Serafima watched the headmistress carefully, to see if this detail bothered her as it bothered Serafima. There was something _off_ about the posture she imagined Quirrel having--something about the body language of turning away--when it would be more natural to cover her eyes, or cover her ears. She imagined Quirrel, with her hands hanging uselessly by her sides, turning around in the stands, facing backwards with a blank expression...

Serafima shuddered, and Dumbledore looked up at her.

"That doesn't necessarily mean anything, Serafima," Dumbledore lightly chided. 

"Why am I watching Quirrel?" Serafima burst out. "Is it for her own safety, or for the safety of others?"

"A bit of both, I imagine."

Serafima sighed and finally took a seat in front of Dumbledore's desk. "Miss Evans has two more Quidditch matches to play."

"Unless you ban her from the team."

Serafima snorted. "When the child is a natural flier, the Snitch flies into her very bosom, and she'll soon have offers for a free Nimbus 2000? Besides which, she's found an important niche in the Slytherin team."

The headmistress laughed. "I had noticed that."

"Difficult to miss, really. But who tried to kill her today? Dumbledore..." Serafima was almost afraid to voice her question aloud, but knew she must. "Was it the Dark Lady?"

The headmistress regarded Serafima carefully and chewed the inside of her cheek. "I have no doubt that Amy is ultimately behind what happened today. Does that mean that Lady Voldemort herself showed up at today's Quidditch match and tried to kill Daisy? I certainly hope not."

"You certainly hope not," Serafima repeated flatly.

"It's the best I can give you," the headmistress said. 

:-:-:-:-:-:

Daisy couldn't believe that Snape would try to kill her. But the more Herman talked about it, the less Daisy believed that Snape _wouldn't_ try to kill her. After all, the woman could be horrible to Daisy in class, and Daisy liked it best when Snape ignored her completely...but then Daisy would remember Snape talking to her about appearances, or she'd remember Snape's clenched fists after the troll. 

Snape seemed cold and calculating and perfectly in control, except when dealing with Daisy. She was a wretchedly mean teacher--calling a student stupid if they didn't know the answer, or mocking them if their potions were the wrong consistency, but Snape's eye twitched only when she was looking at Daisy. Once, during dinner at the Gryffindor table, Nancy Longbottom said something about Snape being horrible to Daisy, and Daisy had tried to play it off. "Professor Snape is horrible to everyone," Daisy had said with more confidence than she felt, but Nancy said, "No, I know, but when Snape looks at you, things stick out in her neck and she gets all twitchy." And Daisy had to agree. 

So Daisy knew it wasn't all in her head. There was something about _Daisy_ , specifically, that made her different in Snape's mind. Of course it might be because she was the Girl Who Lived, but Daisy somehow didn't think so. 

But then she'd remember when Snape had taken her to get her broom. 

Perhaps, Daisy thought, ...perhaps Snape was just mental. 

Daisy was quite preoccupied with this line of thought in Friday's Potions class--what did it mean if her own Head of House tried to kill her? What Herman saw--what did _that_ mean if Snape _hadn't_ tried to kill her? 

She was so wrapped up in these questions that she very nearly chopped the ginger root too fine. Who knew what that would do to the Stomach Soothing Serum she was supposed to be making? 

She glanced at the gray-blue slime bubbling in her cauldron. Actually, it didn't seem like it should do anything to the actual potion--but something about minced ginger root seemed...wigglier. Daisy thought that it might make brewing the potion messier. 

Without looking around, she tried to place where Snape was in the room. Behind her, talking to Felina Malfoy. _Good_ , Daisy thought, and started to chop her ginger root very fine indeed. 

When she added the ginger to her potion, the gray-blue slime turned clear yellow and kept boiling happily, just as it was supposed to. Daisy felt her shoulders sag in disappointment. She only had three steps left, so she resigned herself to a perfectly normal potion brewed in a perfectly legitimate way. 

But at the very last step of the brewing process, as she added the fourth and final drop of lemon oil, it happened--and it happened very quickly. Her cauldron simply boiled over. The cauldron didn't melt; the potion didn't smoke. It didn't release sparks or pops. The potion just had a silent revolt. Daisy almost liked it, until the bubbling mess reached her hand, and she realized that boiling hot liquid all over one's desk was not a desirable thing. 

"Oi!" she yelled, and pulled Ronnie (who had been absorbed with her own potion) aside. 

Beth Zabini, on the other side of the table, yelled "Watch it!" and stepped back herself, and suddenly the whole room was looking at their table. 

Daisy hadn't considered all the unwanted attention when she'd hatched this plan two minutes ago. 

"Miss Evans!" Professor Snape yelled. 

Daisy didn't have to fake her cringe. "Sorry, ma'am," she said. 

"Oh! 'Sorry,' she says. As if that's a substitute for following my VERY CLEAR DIRECTIONS!" Without missing a beat in her tirade, Snape somehow managed to Vanish the ruined potion--which impressed Daisy greatly. She blinked at her empty cauldron, then blinked up at Snape.

"Nothing to say in response?" Snape hissed. "Detention. Tomorrow morning, nine o'clock, and we can once again review the very clear distinction between chopping and mincing!"

Daisy opened her mouth, then closed it again. How had Snape _known?_ She'd only glimpsed the potion for a few seconds, from across a classroom. She looked at Ronnie, but Ronnie was just looking at her in sympathy--a sort of a silent "Bad luck, mate." Daisy looked back at Snape. "Yes Ma'am," she finally said. 

During lunch that day, Daisy was distracted by burns on two of her fingers. She hadn't noticed at the time, but she must have burned her hand on the potion--her fingers had angry red marks that _hurt_. 

Meanwhile, Ronnie told Herman about what happened in Potions that day. Predictably, when Herman heard about Daisy's detention, he became very agitated. 

"Don't go," he told Daisy.

"Herman," Ronnie said, "just because I don't think Snape wants to kill Daisy...it doesn't mean I think we should go trying to change her mind."

Daisy snorted. 

"It's not funny, Daisy. You can't be alone with her!" Herman insisted.

"Then come with me," Daisy said. 

Herman blinked. "Yes, I think we should," he said. 

"Wait," Ronnie said. "Who's 'we'?"

Herman gave Daisy a hard look, then said, "What's wrong with your hand?"

"Just so we're clear, Herman," Ronnie said, "I won't stop you from joining in detention time with Snape, but I'm not...keen on that plan for myself."

But Herman kept staring at Daisy's hand. 

"I think I must have burned it on the potion," Daisy said, holding it up.

"And Snape just let you LEAVE the classroom like that?" Herman said indignantly.

"Oh, it's not like that," Daisy said, even though she hadn't really thought about it. "I didn't even realize it was burnt, and besides, Snape is...she's good at potions, but she's..."

"She's rubbish at people," Ronnie concluded. "Let's go to the hospital wing to get you some burn balm." 

:-:-:-:-:-:

Saturday morning, Ronnie woke up rather earlier than she wanted to because she had an odd dream where Snape tried to convince their potions class that she was Daisy's mother. No one believed her until she showed them all a tattoo on her arm that proved that she had, in fact, given birth to Daisy eleven years prior. This made perfect sense to Ronnie, because she remembered her own mother's tattoo that ran the whole length of her arm, listing off all her children and their birthdays.

So she woke up confused, because there was no way that Snape could be Daisy's mother. She rolled over in bed and let her thoughts drift, trying to get back to sleep. 

And then she heard it: a voice speaking in a stage whisper, "Excuse me, miss?"

And then she realized two things: Herman had found a way to wake her up early to get her to go to detention, and also-- _her mother didn't have a tattoo_. Weird.

She rolled back over and covered her head with her pillow.

"Miss Weasley?" the voice tried again. It sounded like a portrait.

Ronnie didn't move. 

"Miss Weasley, there's a young gentleman in the common room who asked me to wake you up. He says he needs to see you posthaste."

Ronnie could still win this, she knew. Portraits couldn't come shake you awake or pull your hair or tickle your toes or sit on your legs or do any of the things her sisters (and Jonathan) would do to wake each other up. She could definitely ignore a portrait voice, and Herman could just wait in the common room forever.

"Miss Weasley--" the voice began again, but it was interrupted by a blood-curdling scream. 

Ronnie sat up quickly--just in time to be hit in the face with a pillow. Shaking with adrenaline, she leapt out of bed, throwing the pillow on the floor...and then she finally figured out who was screaming. It was Malfoy, of course. 

"Oh, sweet MERLIN, would you GET OUT OF BED ALREADY? SOME of us would like to have a LIE-IN of a SATURDAY, WEASLEY, CAN YOU NOT SEE THAT? ARGH, I should just MURDER YOU and have DONE with it, even AZKABAN must be better than having to LIVE WITH YOU and your, your, _HAIR_ , OH, MERLIN, PLEASE AT LEAST BRUSH IT BEFORE YOU GO OUT, FOR ONCE, PLEASE, JUST FOR ME--"

"Felina," moaned Nancy quietly. "Can you stop, please?"

Ronnie rubbed her face and turned to the portrait. "Tell Herman I'll be right down," she said, conceding the victory gracefully, she thought. She pulled on some trousers and a jumper.

"Just, seriously, brush your hair first," Malfoy said. "And give me back my pillow."

Ronnie picked the pillow up off the floor, and studied it for a moment before she held it to her bum. 

"What are you doing?!" Felina shrieked. 

"Farting," Ronnie said casually, and tossed the pillow back to Malfoy. She slipped out of the room before she did more than catch a glimpse of Malfoy's horrified expression--which was enough to cheer her up a great deal, anyway. 

Herman was waiting for her in the common room.

"How did you get in Gryffindor?" Ronnie asked. 

"Well, I know the password, don't I?"

Ronnie frowned. "But doesn't the Fat Gentleman know that you're not actually, you know--a Gryffindor?"

Herman just shrugged. "It doesn't seem like the greatest security system to me, either, but there you go."

"But then why didn't you just come up to my dorm and wake me yourself?"

Herman made a face at her. "Because I can't? Because boys can't go into the girls' dormitories?"

"Is that...is that a question?"

"No, you nitwit. Boys can't go into girls' dormitories."

"Since when?"

"Since the founding of Hogwarts--it says so in _Hogwarts: A History_."

"I don't believe you," Ronnie said, and grabbed Herman by the wrist and dragged him toward the staircase leading to her dorm. 

"No!" Herman cried. "We don't have time for this--Daisy's detention is in fifteen minutes!"

"It'll take half a minute," Ronnie said. Herman wasn't really fighting her, which made him a lot easier to pull along than, say, Jonathan, if, for example, Jonathan didn't want to help Ronnie de-gnome the garden. 

Ronnie pulled Herman up one, two, three, four, five steps, and started to feel smug, which lasted for the amount of time it took to reach the sixth step, when the steps suddenly disappeared entirely and Ronnie and Herman both slid helplessly back down to the common room. Herman just grunted when Ronnie slammed into him. 

"Sorry--sorry," Ronnie said. "I'm sorry." 

Herman sighed. 

"Let's just go to the detention, yeah?" Ronnie said, with false cheer. "And how long will the staircase stay like that?"

Herman sighed again.

:-:-:-:-:-:

"I only assigned the one detention, if I recall correctly," Serafima said when Miss Evans showed up to the potions classroom with Miss Weasley and Granger in tow. 

"We know, ma'am," Granger said. "Ronnie and I are only here to observe."

Miss Weasley made a noise that sounded like, "Guh." Miss Evans merely blinked at Serafima. 

Serafima gritted her teeth. "Your observation is not required, nor your interference. Miss Evans, you do not get to have your _fan club_ follow you along everywhere, especially to your punishments."

Miss Weasley made another odd noise and turned bright red, but Granger spoke before Weasley said anything coherent. "Of course, ma'am, we've brought our own work to do; we won't bother you. We just don't want Daisy to be alone with you."

" _Alone_ with me?" Serafima repeated in confusion and not a little outrage. She stood up from her desk and walked toward the children. "And what--"

"Herman thinks you tried to kill me at the Quidditch match," Miss Evans said, and Serafima literally took a step back. Miss Evans continued before Serafima could recover. "He saw you muttering something and staring at me while my broom was going wonky. And the moment your robes caught fire and you looked away, my broom leveled out."

There were so many things wrong with that statement. Serafima could only untangle one thing at a time. "What could possibly motivate me to murder my own Seeker during a match?"

"That's what I said!" Miss Weasley said, just before Granger elbowed her in the ribs. 

"It would give you a nearly perfect alibi," Granger said shrewdly, which stumped Serafima. 

"It would," she agreed slowly. "I'll have to remember that in the future."

The children didn't seem to know what to say, but Miss Evans was looking at her with an odd expression. Serafima said, "What do you think about it, Miss Evans?"

"Well," Miss Evans said, "I would like to hear what you were doing, if you weren't cursing my broom. And I would like to know who was cursing my broom, if it wasn't you."

"And have you thought about possible answers to those questions?"

Miss Evans shrugged. "Just stupid stuff. Maybe you were mad because I couldn't catch the snitch, and you weren't so much cursing _me_ as you were, well, just cursing. And maybe it was a coincidence that my broom leveled off when it did. Or maybe it wasn't a coincidence--maybe when your robes caught fire, it distracted whoever it was and they stopped cursing me. But that would mean that it was a Slytherin, because you were in the Slytherin stands, weren't you?"

Serafima again saw Quirrel in her mind's eye--Quirrel with her back turned toward the match, staring blankly at the back of the stands with a vacant look, drool running down her chin...

Serafima shook her head. "I wasn't cursing, nor was I casting curses, for that matter. I was casting protective enchantments. And I know of no one in the Slytherin stands with both motive and sufficient talent to curse a racing broom."

"But you hate Daisy," Granger said, narrowing his eyes at Snape. "Everyone says so."

Serafima didn't know how she even got into these situations. Did Melvin McGonagall ever have to give the _I don't hate you_ speech? She somehow doubted it, and yet this was not even the first time she'd been confronted with this sort of accusation. "Nonsense," she said. "I love Miss Evans the same as I love all my students."

The children all looked at her blankly. "If you were my own children, I couldn't love you more," she continued dryly. 

"That's a lie!" Granger said. 

Serafima waved her hand. "Not a lie at all. Formal logic and conditional statements--look it up."

"Oh," Granger said. "Like _Alice in Wonderland_ \--If wishes were things, cabbages would be kings!" And he laughed. 

Serafima looked at the boy blankly, as did Miss Weasley and Miss Evans. She decided she wouldn't ask. "Miss Evans, you have a detention to serve."

"That's fine," Granger said, and grabbed Miss Weasley by the arm and forcibly dragged her to a table in the corner. "We'll just be over here, not interfering at all."

Serafima blinked and looked at Miss Evans, whose head was bent down to the floor, no doubt hiding her smile. Wise girl.

"For your detention, Miss Evans, you will take these beets," she indicated an entire barrel of beets she'd procured from the kitchens, "peel them all, and then, using only your knife, you will cut up four quarts of chopped beets, four quarts of minced beets, and the same quantities of shredded, diced, and chopped beets." She indicated five jugs of the proper measure that Miss Evans was to fill. "They must all be cut perfectly or you will start over. Any questions?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Granger said from the corner, "but you said 'chopped' twice."

Serafima felt for a moment as if she'd been stabbed through her right eye. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, letting her shoulders drop. She focused back on Miss Evans, who was eying the jugs nervously. As calmly as she could, Serafima said, "Chopped, minced, shredded, diced, and julienned beets."

There seemed to be a minor scuffle in the corner, which Serafima ignored completely, but then she heard Granger hiss, "She didn't say 'julienne' the first time!"

Serafima sat down at her desk and spent the next hour doing her best to ignore Granger, which perversely made it impossible to ignore Granger. The boy did seem to have quite a bit of schoolwork with him, but he currently had three books open on his table, all of which were enormous and had nothing to do with any subject Granger could be taking: _Subduing Dark Beasts_ , _The Compendium of Monsters_ , and _Things That Go Bump in the Night_. 

Despite herself, Serafima finally caved. "Granger, what are you working on?"

"Oh, it's an extra credit assignment for Professor Quirrel." The boy sighed and continued unprompted. "I made a rather low mark on my last essay, but Professor Quirrel said I could raise it if I wrote an essay about how to calm a raging Cerberus. Only I can't find anything about it--I don't think there's one method that will work on any Cerberus, other than to build a relationship of trust with it, which is done primarily through food, activity, and calm affection. But that just prevents a Cerberus from becoming enraged--if you come across an unfamiliar Cerberus, it will probably try to attack you, that's why they're used as guards, really--and all the books say your best option is to run away. But there has to be a better way--Professor Quirrel would not have given me this assignment if there weren't an answer...You don't know anything about Cerberuses, do you Professor Snape?"

The only Cerberus Serafima knew was currently guarding the door on the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side, and the only reason she knew that was because she sneaked there late at night to see if she could find out what Dumbledore was keeping so secret. She didn't make it past the Cerberus. 

(She suspected there was nothing of value there anyway. If anyone succeeded in getting through the Cerberus and then all the traps and challenges beyond it, they would probably find themselves in an elaborate cage, while the thing they were looking for rattled around in Dumbledore's desk drawer.)

But what would Quirina Quirrel know about that? And why would she be setting a first year an essay about it? Serafima started to feel uneasy. The cursed broom, and now the Cerberus essay...it could be a coincidence, but it felt...malicious. When Granger asked her about the Cerberus, Serafima simply said, "No," and looked down, pretending to focus on the essays she was grading. 

She successfully ignored the children until Miss Evans finished her chopping, and mincing, and slicing, and whatever else Serafima had said. She barely looked at Miss Evans's work before she dismissed the children. Miss Evans walked a bit behind her friends, so when Miss Weasley and Granger had both stepped out the door, Serafima called out, "Miss Evans, close the door and come here."

To her surprise, Miss Evans did so without hesitation. Serafima wasted no time casting a quick locking spell to keep the other children out. 

"Miss Evans," she said without preamble, "someone at this school tried to kill you last week."

Miss Evans looked at her, and looked away. "Maybe they just wanted to hurt me."

Serafima snorted. "If that gives you comfort." 

At that moment, the door burst open and Granger toppled in like he expected that Serafima had Miss Evans in a choke hold. Miss Evans jumped at the noise; Serafima merely sighed. It was perhaps best that Granger and Miss Weasley heard what she had to say, anyway. All the same, she addressed herself to Miss Evans. "No student has the skill to curse a racing broom. If any other teacher gives you detention, it might be best if..."

"I brought along my fan club?" Miss Evans smiled at her. "Yes, ma'am."

"And one last thing, Miss Evans: in the future, should you need to talk to me for any reason, don't arrange a potions mishap. I do keep regular office hours."

Granger looked affronted, but Miss Evans smiled. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, ma'am," she said.


End file.
